


Born to Lose

by tastycas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Farm/Ranch, Alternate Universe - Historical, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Brotherhood, Brothers, Catholic Character, Cowboy Dean, Drug Addiction, Dysfunctional Family, Family Secrets, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden Love, God - Freeform, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Oral Sex, Priest Castiel, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-03-06
Packaged: 2018-01-11 01:06:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1166778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastycas/pseuds/tastycas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester is a young cowboy with a distant father and a wayward brother. Father Castiel Novak is a priest with great ambition and a rebellious past. When they meet on Campbell ranch in the summer of 1950, something unlikely happens; they fall in love.<br/>Dean struggles with his father's expectations for his future. Father Cas struggles with everything he has ever believed about himself and his faith. Despite all of this, Dean and Cas begin down the long and dangerous road of forbidden romance … even when it seems that the entire world wants to keep them apart.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue (Father Cas)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my awesome beta, [Cameron!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Keirann)  
> ([Cameron's Tumblr](http://thelittlenightowl.tumblr.com/))

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kansas, 1950
> 
> Dean Winchester was nineteen years old when he first saw him.

**Prologue**

 

_July 1_ st, 1950 – Kansas  


Dean Winchester was nineteen years old when he first saw him.

Dean was hiding in the barn to avoid his father, because it was time for him to clean out the horse stables. Dean had grown up on Campbell Ranch, and loved his job, but lately he just felt so  _tired_. From sunrise to well past sunset every single day, Dean would break his back herding and feeding and chasing cattle, feeding and watering the livestock, cleaning slop and shit and God knows what else – then he would wake the next morning only for it to start all over again.

Dean loved his job, much more than his younger brother Sam (who dreamed of being a lawyer) ever did, but on this particular summer afternoon, he was exhausted and overheated, which was what caused him to seek temporary shelter behind a bale of hay in the cool barn.

He was dozing off when the sound of footsteps roused him. The sun was lower, and wind was now howling outside; he had no idea how long he’d been asleep. He shot up to a sitting position and looked around wildly, fearing his father or, even worse, his grandfather, Samuel, who owned the ranch. Dean wiped away a drip of sweat that had slid into his eye from under the thick and itchy lining of his cowboy hat, and decided to stand up and face his punishment like a man.

The man to whom the footsteps belonged was a man Dean had never seen before. Hell, he’d never seen anyone  _like him_  before. His eyes were electric blue, his hair windswept from the hot, strong breeze outside. He was clean shaven, dressed in all black, and clearly surprised at the young man who had just jumped up from behind the pile of hay.

The immediate thought that jumped to Dean’s mind was,  _he’s beautiful._ Bewildered and, frankly, terrified, he pushed this thought away.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice low and gravelly, ‘I didn’t think anybody was in here.’

‘No, that’s fine, I was just having a little rest,’ replied Dean, hoping this information was safe with the stranger.

‘I thought this looked like a nice place to come and pray,’ said the man, taking a few steps towards Dean while looking fondly around the barn.

That’s when Dean saw what the man was wearing. His black button-up shirt was pushed up to his elbows, his trousers black and crisp, a perfectly ironed crease down the front of each leg, his shoes were black and shiny.

But it was the thing around the man’s neck that made Dean’s heart leap into his throat, a thin strip of white peeked out from under the perfect collar, and Dean remembered that his family was expecting a guest today. A priest, and a very old friend of Samuel.

‘ _Oh,_ ’ said Dean. His voice cracked, and he removed his hat so quickly that it fell to the barn floor. He decided to leave it there, and offer his hand to the priest instead. ‘You’re Father Castiel!’

‘That is a mouthful, I know, please just call me Father Cas,’ said the priest, and he shook Dean’s trembling hand. Dean could have sworn he was suppressing a large grin. ‘You must be Dean, I’ve heard much about you.’

‘You have?’ asked Dean nervously. He was under the impression that it had been years since his grandfather and the priest spoke. Had Samuel sent Father Cas out to look for him?

‘Yes, your grandfather mentions you often in his letters.’

‘Oh ... right.’

This came as a surprise to Dean; he’d had no idea that his grandfather was still sending letters to Father Cas.

Dean had heard many stories about Father Castiel, while he was growing up. He knew that Castiel was the son of Charles Novak, Samuel’s best friend, he was ten or eleven years Dean’s senior, and, as far as Dean knew, his father had disowned Castiel for joining the priesthood.

Samuel openly agreed with Mr Novak’s decision, but he always kept in contact with Castiel as well (a strange act of compassion that Dean always found oddly uncharacteristic of his grandfather).

Mr Novak had passed away a few years earlier, and that was the last Dean heard of Father Castiel, until it was announced earlier that week that he would be coming to visit them.

Up close, Dean had to try and keep his eyes from the priest’s lips; they were lovely and thick and pink and ...  _no_ , he couldn’t have these thoughts about a man, not again. He’d banished these feelings for four long years, with the help of their old local priest, Father Uriel. He’d sworn he’d never tell Dean’s father, and he literally took the secret to his grave when he had died the week before. Dean didn’t want the feelings to come back now, especially for a  _priest_ , for God’s sake.

He tried to focus on his eyes instead ...  _nope, no good_ , he thought – they were just as lovely as everything else on his face. Dean fixed his eyes on a point just beyond the priest’s left ear.

‘How long will you be staying, Father?’ asked Dean, already wishing the priest was out of his hair so he could resume his life as before.

‘For a week, I believe,’ replied Father Cas. ‘I’ve only arrived in Kansas today from Los Angeles. Mr Campbell – sorry, your grandfather – he’s letting me stay here until my new room at the rectory is cleaned out.

‘Oh ... are you replacing Father Uriel at St Augustine's?’ asked Dean.

‘Yes, that’s right,’ replied Father Cas, ‘his family is coming to clear out his belongings this weekend, and in any case, it would be in poor taste for me to move in before the funeral has even been held. Did you know Father Uriel?’

‘I did, yeah.’

‘Were the two of you close?’

‘Well – I mean he came out here every Sunday to give mass ... because it’s a long way for all of us to go into town.’

 ‘Well, I’m sorry for your loss. I never met the good Father, but I’ve heard wonderful things.’

Dean nodded. In all honesty, he didn’t like Father Uriel at all. He was obnoxious, mean, and constantly reminded Dean that the only reason he didn’t  _expose his homosexual tendencies to his father and to the whole town_ was because he was bound by his vows not to. However, he did help Dean banish the bad thoughts, and he supposed he should be grateful.

He said none of this to Father Cas, of course.

There was a silence between them, and Father Cas took a couple of steps towards the door, as if he was going to leave, but he turned and spoke to Dean again.

‘So what do you do here on the ranch, Dean?’

‘A—a bit of everything,’ stuttered Dean, caught off-guard by the continued conversation. ‘I do whatever my father tells me to do, really.’

‘I understand that your father runs things around here?’

‘Well, obviously Grandpa always has the final say in things, but yeah, he leaves most of the work to Dad so he can stay in his study, counting his money.’

Dean definitely noticed Father Cas suppress a grin this time.

‘What made you come to Kansas?’ asked Dean. ‘Los Angeles must be a lot more interesting.’

Now, Father Cas seemed to grimace, and for a moment Dean worried he’d said the wrong thing, but when the priest turned to fully face him, he was smiling kindly, and Dean decided that he must have imagined it.

‘I go where the church sends me,’ said Father Cas. ‘And she has sent me here ... so Dean, why don’t you sit with me a while, and tell me about yourself? I would like to get to know my new parishioners.’

Dean was about to say no, he was too busy, he really should be going ... but Father Cas sat on a bench by the barn door, and patted the spot next to him. He looked up at Dean, tilted his head in a way that made the younger man’s stomach jump in a very confusing yet wonderful way. Careful not to make eye contact with the priest, lest he make his blush even more obvious, he could not resist taking the seat beside him.

They talked for hours. Well, Dean talked, and Father Cas  _listened_ , which made Dean realise that nobody ever really listened to him. Not properly.

He told Father Cas about his grandfather and how he was a great man, but emotionally distant, so much that Dean barely knew him despite growing up with him and seeing him every day. He told the priest how his father was strong, motivated, and only wanted the best for Dean, though sometimes Dean wondered why he was willing to do absolutely everything the man asked of him.

He told him about the housekeeper Mrs Milligan, who always let him have cookies before dinner when he was growing up, and her eight-year-old son, Adam, who so admired he and Sam, and followed them everywhere.

He told Father Cas about his little brother Sam, who was only fifteen and convinced he was in love with a girl named Jessica who lived a few miles down the road and came to the ranch for Sunday mass.

He even told Father Cas about his mother.

The priest’s eyes grew so sad as he told the story, and he looked away uncomfortably, afraid that the priest might cry.

Dean’s mother was named Mary, and she was Grandpa Samuel’s daughter. She met John in high school, and when they married he moved with her to the ranch and began helping out, only to find he had a real talent for it. Soon after Dean was born, he was a fully-fledged ranch employee.

There was a strange ranch hand that lived in a cabin by the lake (it had been abandoned since he left it). His name was Fredrick Stanwick, but the other ranch hands had nick-named him ‘Yellow-eyes’, obviously, due to the colouration of his eyes, brought on by years of heavy drinking.

Yellow-eyes had fallen in love with Mary. When she rejected him, and Samuel fired him from the ranch, he returned one night with the intentions to, as he later told police, murder Mary’s husband and her children.

Mary came upstairs that night to find him with a knife, luring over Sam, who was only six months old at the time.

Mary tried to stop him, and he stabbed her in the stomach eleven times, before dragging her outside into the trees and burning her body. However, John caught him while walking back to his homestead with his friends, and it was all they could do to stop him from murdering Yellow-eyes there and then. Personally, Dean thought they should have let him do it. Yellow-eyes hanged himself in prison a couple of months later.

Dean barely remembered anything about his mother.

When he finished his story, he dared a look at Father Cas.

‘That’s terrible, Dean,’ he said. ‘I ... knew your mother was murdered, but your grandfather ... well he never went into details. Understandably so. But I’m very sorry.’

Dean nodded, unsure of what to say next. He had just practically told the priest his life story, and now he felt very exposed.

Father Cas placed a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder – electricity seemed to shoot through his body and make his heart stutter.

‘I should go, but it was lovely talking to you,’ said Father Cas. ‘I’ll see you at dinner?’

Dean looked into the priest’s face, and his eyebrows furrowed. He could have  _sworn_  ... no he was imagining it. The priest wasn’t looking at him ... with longing? No. No way. He was imagining things, he was seeing what he wanted to see.

Why did he want to see that?

Dean would look back at that day for the rest of his life, and smile a bittersweet smile to himself when he thought about how  _young_  he was, how naive – how he had  _no idea_  what was coming, and how this innocent looking priest would consume his life until his very last breath.

This was only the beginning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wondering when the next update is? [Just check the updates tag.](http://tastycas.tumblr.com/tagged/btltag/)


	2. Earth Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four years have passed since Dean and Father Cas met.
> 
> Grandfather Samuel throws a party, and Father Cas attends. Dean can't take his eyes off him, but Father Cas seems to have other things on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Grandmother actually beta read this chapter, so thanks Grandma :)
> 
> (I forgot there was a boner mention in this chapter until after she read it. She didn't care but still. Bit awkward haha.)

**PART ONE:  
** I Need You

_You ask how much I need you, must I explain?_  
 _I need you, oh my darling, like roses need rain._  
 _You ask how long I’ll love you; I’ll tell you true,_  
 _Until the twelfth of never, I’ll still be loving you._

_\- Johnny Mathis, ‘The Twelfth of Never’_

_*_

**Chapter Two**  
Earth Angel

_May, 1954 – Kansas, Campbell Ranch_

This was way too much fuss.

Dean had celebrated his twenty-third birthday four months earlier and even _that_ had been too much fuss. But this ... his party hadn’t even come close to this.

His grandfather, Samuel, was celebrating his eightieth birthday, and the large living room of his luxurious homestead was packed with hot bodies, dancing and sweating in the unseasonably hot spring air. Samuel had spared no expense; the party was complete with a wait staff, bartender and professional band.

Dean and his brother Sam stood up against a wall, holding their drinks and rebuffing the advances of any young girls who asked them to dance. Sam’s refusal was due to being in a relationship with Jessica Moore, a pretty young blonde girl with big eyes and an even bigger inheritance. Her father owned the paper mill a couple of miles down the road from Campbell Ranch; Mr Moore, a surly, outspoken man, scared the life out of both Sam and Dean. (Mr Moore had refused the invitation to this party, and so Jessica had not been allowed to attend either. Dean knew that his grandfather would have a thing or two to say about that in the morning.)

Dean’s reasoning for not dancing was slightly different from that of his brother’s. He had an excellent view of the front door from where he was standing, and he was waiting for somebody.

He pulled nervously at his tuxedo, which was very uncomfortable for a young man more accustomed to jeans and boots and breathable cotton shirts. His dark blonde hair, which was usually messy and hidden beneath his cowboy hat, had been carefully styled and parted on the side by Mrs Milligan earlier that night.

‘You look like a proper young gentleman,’ she’d commented, with a smile. ‘Your mother would be proud.’

Mrs Milligan wasn’t at the party either. Her son Adam, now aged twelve years, was apparently sick with the flu. He must have been quite ill, because Dean had heard him yelling hysterically as he departed from the Milligan place.

Dean decided it would be safe to go for another drink. Father Cas would probably be quite late. He went over to the bar and ordered two gin and tonics, one for him and one for Sam.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror. He really did look like a proper gentleman, and so did Sam, he decided, looking across the room at his younger brother. At only eighteen, he was already much taller than Dean, and much broader. His usually shaggy brown hair was slicked back against his head, accentuating his high cheekbones and sharp jaw. He looked nervous, but had a smile pasted on his face, nodding politely to anybody who said hello to him in passing.

It occurred to Dean that one day, when both his father and grandfather were gone, he and Sam would run this whole thing. They were set to inherit Campbell Ranch and all the responsibilities that came with it. It wasn’t the hard work that scared Dean, _that_ he was used to. Nor did it worry him that they would have to manage the ranch’s vast income, there were people hired to take care of that for them.

No, it was _this_ side of things that Dean feared. Dean was antisocial, and Sam was kind but self-doubting and shy. Yet, one day they would have to dress up like this all the time. Maintain social contacts, throw parties, be good hosts. Dean couldn’t even begin to imagine it. What if they decided to sell the ranch? Dean doubted he could bring himself to do it, it had been in his family for generations. But still, what would his father think?

At that moment, John Winchester appeared at Dean’s side, as if thinking of his father had made him materialize out of thin air.

‘Did I scare you?’ asked his father, when Dean jumped.

‘No,’ said Dean defensively, but he wasn’t sure if his father had heard over the music and the loud din of the birthday guests.

John was a broad, muscular man with a shock of dark hair, strong eyebrows, square jaw and big temper. Usually sporting a black scruffy beard, he was clean shaven for the occasion, and a forced smile was upon his face.

John ordered a Manhattan from the bar, and Dean followed him back over to where Sam was standing.

‘Here,’ said Dean, handing Sam his drink. His own was already almost empty, drained absent-mindedly while Dean was lost in thought. He scanned the room, and his heart leapt when he saw a man similar in height and stature to Father Cas; however it was just Mr Jones, a banker from the city that he’d met once or twice at his grandfather’s dinner parties.

‘Ol’ Samuel certainly knows how to throw a party,’ commented John, nodding at the room. ‘Where is he?’

‘Over there,’ said Sam, taking a sip of his drink. ‘Father Castiel just came in, he’s talking to him.’

Dean’s head whipped around, then he quickly realised his mistake and took a casual sip of his drink, so as to not rouse his father’s suspicions. He peered nonchalantly over the glass, and saw them; Father Cas and his grandfather was speaking to one another, standing at the foot of the staircase.

Father Cas was wearing regular clothing, a rare occurrence that Dean considered a treat. His favourite was the thin white shirt he wore when he helped Dean and Sam with their chores after Sunday Mass, the sleeves pushed up to reveal muscular arms, and occasionally the top two buttons were undone, which would expose a gleaming sweating chest ...

Dean cleared his throat. It wouldn’t do to have those kinds of thoughts in such a public setting; there was nowhere to sit and certainly no cushion free to place over his lap.

But tonight, _tonight_ Father Cas looked incredible. Looking at him now, Dean wasn’t so much aroused as breath-taken. The priest’s hair was combed to the side, much like Dean’s was, his grey pinstriped suit was well-fitted and his jacket was unbuttoned to reveal a matching grey vest and a tie in Dean’s favourite shade of navy blue.

Dean waited until Father Cas had finished speaking with Samuel before muttering some excuse to his father and brother, and casually heading towards the priest. He got another drink on his way, glancing often at Father Cas in the mirror behind the bar.

He made his way through the crowd; Father Cas was now speaking with a couple that Dean did not recognise. They walked away from him, the woman patting him affectionately on his shoulder as she went, and Father Cas met Dean’s eye through the many people between him.

Dean grinned, and felt his face flush, but did not look away. He’d long accepted that he was always going to blush around Father Cas. The priest smiled back at him, tilting his head and winking ever so slightly. Dean began to push through the crowd to approach him but, to his surprise, Father Cas abruptly turned away and began speaking to an elderly man with a massive moustache and a ridiculously old-fashioned suit.

Dean stopped abruptly, confused. Perhaps Father Cas thought Dean was busy. He backed away and milled around the edges of the crowd, trying to make small talk with a couple of guests and keep his gaze away from the priest.

About half an hour passed before Dean decided to try again. Father Cas had found a seat over by the grand piano. Alone, and sipping on a glass of champagne.

‘Father,’ said Dean, standing before him.

For a moment, Dean thought that Father Cas might try and rush away again, but instead the priest smiled up at him. Dean barely concealed a sigh of relieve.

‘Dean. Are you enjoying the party?’

‘Yeah, I guess.’ He glanced around the room before looking back at him and pulling a face. They both laughed.

‘I suppose it’s something you’ll need to get used to,’ said Father Cas. ‘All of this will be yours one day, and these sorts of things will be your responsibility.’

‘I was thinking that same thing a little earlier,’ said Dean with a nod.

He didn’t mention his worries to the priest. He’d spent the last four years confiding his childish fears and concerns to the priest, and as a result they’d developed a strange father-son sort of bond. He didn’t want to be thought of as a child by Father Cas, and he _certainly_ did not want to be thought of as a son.

But sometimes – just sometimes – it was glaringly obvious to Dean that this was not the case. A lingering look, a small lick of the lips, a quick guilty but intrigued glance whenever Dean was shirtless and shearing the sheep ... Dean didn’t even dare to hope, he tried to tell himself that these things were all on his head.

But he knew that they weren’t really. He knew that deep down.

He cleared his throat once again, and banished these thoughts from his mind.

‘How are things at the church, Father?’ asked Dean, eager to change the subject from his own future.

‘Excellent, actually,’ said Father Cas, his face lighting up in a way it only did when speaking of his precious church. ‘We’ve just had a whole garden donated to us, free labour and all. It’s not finished, but it’s coming up marvellously ... you really should come and see it soon.’

‘We’ll try, but it’s hard for us to get into town, as you know.’

Dean had only visited the church, St Augustine's Catholic Church, a handful of times since Father Cas arrived there. He brought Mass to them every Sunday, and there was really no reason to drive all the way into town. The Winchester men only had one car, a rather poor gift from Samuel, but still a surprising one considering his usual miserly ways. The car was dreadfully slow and expensive to run, and they only used it to go into town on very special occasions. Dean had visited Father Cas’ church only when his family was invited to Baptisms or first Communions.

‘You know,’ said Father Cas thoughtfully, ‘one of my parishioners recently gave me a car as a gift, so I can make my rounds more easily.’

‘That’s great!’ said Dean.

‘Oh, yes it was _terribly_ kind and generous of him. I was hesitant to take it, of course, but it’s uses far outweighed my guilt to be perfectly honest. Now, I can visit double the people on Sunday.’

‘That’s fantastic, Father, it really is,’ said Dean. He knew that Father Cas’ favourite part of his life was ‘ _visiting his flock’_ , and now he could do that much more easily, it made Dean very happy for him ... and honestly, he was also secretly hoping that it would allow the father to visit _him_ more often as well.

‘Well, as I was going to say,’ said Father Cas, ‘now I have the car, perhaps I come get you now and then for mass at St Augustine's. It’d be nice for you to have the full experience, mass feels much more holy within the walls of the church.’

Dean almost choked on his drink. He skulled back the rest of it slowly, trying to conceal his joy.

‘I’d really like that Father,’ he said.

They smiled at each other, and Dean decided to put his plan into action. He’d been fantasising all week about telling the priest how he felt. He was all grown up now, (nineteen and thirty-one seemed a lot bigger gap than their present ages of twenty-three and thirty four) and his dad wasn’t breathing down his neck as often as he used to. Now seemed like the perfect time, with a little alcohol in the both of them in the midst of a joyous and festive atmosphere. He just needed to get Father Cas alone.

Dean was nervous; his breath was ragged, his heart felt like a hammer smashing into his ribs.

‘Look – Father Cas? I need to talk to you ...’

‘Oh, can it wait Dean?’ asked Father Cas, jumping to his feet. ‘I’ve just seen Miss Rosen ... I promised to speak with her earlier ... she certainly is an _enthusiastic_ young lady. I’ll speak to you later.’

Father Cas said all of this very quickly, and then he was gone, so abruptly that it was like he’d disappeared into thin air. Dean hadn’t even closed his mouth on the sentence that he hadn’t gotten the chance to speak.

Dean turned away from the party, blinking hard, his jaw clenched. He took a couple of large breaths, then turned back, and saw Father Cas dancing with little Rebecca Rosen to _Earth Angel_ by the Penguins. Dean had spoken to young Becky a couple of times, she was fifteen years old, and every Sunday after Mass she would follow Sam around, obviously in puppy-love.

Dean sat down on the foot of the stairs, staring firmly at his shoes, trying to ignore the lyrics of the song blaring through the room.

 

_I fell for you and I knew, the vision of your loveliness,_  
 _I hope and pray that someday, that I’ll be the vision of your happiness,_  
 _Ohh, ohh, ohh, ohh,_  
 _Earth angel, earth angel, please be mine._

Dean groaned and jumped to his feet, leaving his drink behind on the step, and stormed from the living area and out into the warm night air, the song inside still ringing in his ears, floating out into the vast grounds of Campbell Ranch.

 

_My darling dear, love you all the time,  
I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Don't forget to sub if you want to see more!
> 
> Wondering when the next update is? [Just check the updates tag.](http://tastycas.tumblr.com/tagged/btltag/)


	3. I Need You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean storms out of the party, and Father Castiel follows him down to the old barn where the two of them first met. Cas just wants to talk, but what happens next is beyond anything he could have expected.

**Chapter Three**

I Need You

 

Cas was dancing with young Rebecca Rosen when he noticed Dean storming out of the party. He wanted to follow him, but he couldn’t until after the song ended.

However, when the band played the final note, good manners kept him with Miss Rosen as she chattered on; she was clearly smitten with Sam Winchester, and hoping that Cas would introduce them. He casually mentioned that Sam was in a relationship with a local heiress, and this silenced Miss Rosen long enough for him to politely excuse himself and slip towards the exit.

He refrained from looking back at Miss Rosen as he walked away. He felt slightly guilty, leaving her slack jawed and distressed, but his remorse did not last very long. There were more pressing matters at hand. Miss Rosen might be upset, but Dean looked absolutely distraught.

The vast plains of Campbell Ranch at night looked strangely alien to Cas, who usually returned to the rectory before sunset. Evidently, someone had asked for an encore of _Earth Angel,_ Cas could still hear it, bleeding through the homestead doors and seeping into the grounds.

He walked for about ten minutes, quite sure of where he might find Dean. He tripped down the hill, unsteady on the terrain in his dress shoes, and found Dean, as expected, seated on the ground by the barn where they had met, a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

‘Hello, Dean,’ said Cas sadly. The young man’s eyes were red and puffy.

‘What do you want?’ snapped Dean.

‘Where did you get that?’ asked Cas, indicating to the whiskey.

‘Stole it from the bar,’ muttered Dean.

‘You shouldn’t have –’

‘Yeah, yeah, stealing’s a sin. Seems like everything I think, say and do is a sin, Father.’

‘You are not a bad person,’ replied Cas, confused. Dean had never before made any indication to the priest that he believed himself a terrible sinner.

‘How would you know?’

‘I’m the one who hears your confession—’

‘I leave things out,’ said Dean. ‘Come on, you know that. You’re not stupid.’

Cas did not reply. He was well aware of the unspoken sin on the tip of Dean’s tongue whenever the younger man went into Samuel’s office on Sundays, which Cas utilised as a make-shift confessional booth, sitting behind a battered old partition.

It was sort of pointless to sit behind it when less than a dozen people visited Campbell ranch to attend mass, and Cas recognised all of their voices. Still, he thought it was probably easier to confess when one’s face was hidden – and honestly, sometimes it made it easier for Cas to truly forgive. Some of his parishioners got up to ghastly things, things he might have expected from his flock in Hollywood, but never here.

When Dean attended confession, he would mumble about lying, drinking, swearing, disrespecting his grandfather, Cas would absolve him, and he would be on his way.

Cas sighed and sat down next to Dean. He looked very handsome tonight in his tuxedo. Close up, Cas could see his freckles under the moonlight, and his swollen green eyes avoided the priest’s gaze.

He remembered all the times Dean had caught Cas staring at him when he was sheering the sheep, or bouncing along on his favourite black horse, which he affectionately called Baby. Dean would wink. This was the highest level of daring either of them ever reached.

They shared looks and smiles and affectionate touches, but nothing more than a small pat on the back or a quick squeeze of a shoulder. Cas knew they both felt the strange exhilaration in these moments. However, they never addressed it. They couldn’t.

‘You look very nice tonight, Dean,’ said Cas, after mustering some courage. Was this an appropriate thing to say? He wasn’t sure, so he added, ‘You look very – grown up.’

This seemed to displease Dean. ‘I _am_ twenty-three, Father,’ he snapped.

Cas sighed and rubbed his eyes wearily. That had been the wrong thing to say.

‘I know, Dean. I know.’

‘Really? Because I think you forget sometimes.’

‘Well ... you’re wrong.’

Dean snorted derisively, but he did not argue.

‘Are you drunk?’ asked Cas.

‘No,’ he replied. He shook the whiskey bottle in his hand, and Cas saw that it was unopened. ‘You got here before I started.’

‘Dean, come back into the party,’ implored Cas. He was worried that someone might notice they were both missing.

‘I don’t want to.’

‘Come on, De—’

‘Why were you avoiding me?’ asked Dean abruptly.

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘I said _why were you avoiding me_?’ said Dean, looking at Cas fiercely. ‘I wanted to talk to you, and you ran away.’

‘I didn’t _run away_.’

‘Yes you did. Why did you do it?’

‘Oh, Dean ...’ Cas couldn’t answer this question without bringing up the subject they had avoided for so long. If he had spoken to Dean at the party, especially when Dean looked so wonderful, Cas knew wouldn’t be able to stop himself from grinning and staring, and Dean would grin, stare back, and blush.

What if somebody noticed? Gossip travelled fast in a small town, and this particular piece of gossip could prove catastrophic for Cas, his priesthood, his church ... and for Dean, his entire family, and possibly even the ranch.

No, Cas knew he had done the right thing by avoiding Dean that night. But now he was undoing all his hard work by sitting with him alone, outside in the dark; yet no matter how he tried, he could not force himself to leave.

‘Please just tell me why,’ implored Dean, resting his head against the barn wall, his expression alone enough to break Cas’ heart. ‘Is it something I’ve done?’

‘No, _no_ of course you haven’t. It’s just ...’ Cas sighed, and thought up an excuse. ‘It’s just, I spend a lot more time on this ranch than I should, Dean. You know that. People already think I favour the Winchester family. I was just trying to ... socialise with other people. Broaden my circles.’

This was half-true.

‘That’s a load of bullshit,’ argued Dean. ‘You visit the whole damn town every week.’

‘Please don’t be angry with me.’

‘Look, Father, just – j-just leave me alone, all right?’

‘Oh, Dean,’ he said, turning to face the younger man. Perhaps it was the champagne, but he was feeling brave. ‘Stop calling me _Father_.’

Dean looked up at him, and they stared into each other’s eyes for the longest time. Dean visibly swallowed, and his jaw clenched. Cas was overtaken by a strong desire to plant small kisses across it, to make the tension go away ...

He shook his head. Oh, Lord, what was he thinking? What was Dean doing to him?

Cas had joined the priesthood ten years ago, at twenty-four years of age. He’d had a lot of trouble with his vow of obedience – despite his best efforts to bow his head and obey, Cas had always been a man of strong will and self possession, and it seemed that nothing he did could quench this trait of his.

This trait was what had driven him to make the foolish mistake of disregarding a Bishop’s orders; it was this act of disobedience that got him banished to Kansas to begin with. Once considered an up and coming priest, and prime Bishop material, Cas was now living in utter obscurity, performing mass for small town folk and cowboys. But in hindsight, he knew it had been good for him; it had humbled him in ways he could never have achieved by through self-will alone, and he truly loved his parishioners.

Despite all of this, however, one vow Cas never had a problem with in the past was chastity. Not until now. Not until Dean.

‘Father ...’ said Dean. His voice broke Cas from his reverie. There was that awful word again. ‘I’m sorry, _Cas_ ,’ Dean corrected, seeing the priest’s pained expression, ‘please.’

‘Please, what, Dean?’ asked Cas.

Dean shook his head, looking at Cas with wide and bewildered eyes, and muttered, ‘I dunno.’ He cleared his throat and looked away. ‘I ... I dunno.’

Cas sighed and closed his eyes, then opened them again in alarm because of what happened next.

He felt Dean’s rough hand graze over his cheek. Cas knew he should probably bat his hand away, stop this, leave, but he just couldn’t. It occurred to him that Dean may not be drunk, but Cas was definitely tipsy. He could feel his guard dropping. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Dean.

He just wanted to _touch him._ Really touch him. Would it really be so bad, just this once?

Dean leaned in closer, clearly searching Cas’ face for any indication of unwillingness. Cas displayed none; he could only stare at Dean’s perfect face, those big beautiful eyes with their long lashes, his straight nose, sharp jaw, plump lips. Sometimes it was all Cas could do to stop himself from kissing them.

Then, he did kiss them. He felt Dean gasp ever so slightly under his mouth before returning the kiss in earnest. He ran his hands through Cas’ hair, and grabbed at his suit, explored his mouth with his tongue. He was all hands, and Cas in turn could not keep his hands off of him.

Dean shifted over and threw a leg over his lap, so that he was straddling him. Cas experimentally rubbed his hands down the small of Dean’s back and over his ass, something he’d wanted to do for the _longest_ time, and planted kisses down his jaw and neck. Dean moaned loudly through closed lips – _mmm_ – and Cas felt his cock jump in response.

Without warning, panic swelled in Cas’ stomach and he pushed Dean off his lap more aggressively than he had intended. He gently touched Dean’s cheek to soften the gesture, before jumping to his feet and pacing back and forth. Dean looked up at him with wide eyes, blinking rapidly, looking wounded.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked huskily.

 ‘ _What’s wrong?_ ’ repeated Cas incredulously. ‘Dean, what isn’t wrong with this?’

‘It doesn’t feel wrong.’

Cas tended to agree, but he pushed that thought from his mind and didn’t speak it.

‘I am a priest. I have taken a vow of chastity! And you – you are a ...’

‘A man?’ asked Dean, scrambling to his feet. ‘Yeah, I’m a man, that’s it, isn’t it?’

‘T-that is a part of it, yes! Imagine how it would look if someone caught us. Some people have very _strong_ feelings about homosexuality, Dean. I could get you killed. You’re meant to be able to trust me! And I have my faith, my vows!’

‘And if I was a woman, would your vows mean this much to you?’ Dean asked heatedly.

‘Of course,’ said Cas, and he meant it. ‘Of course they would. I am a priest Dean, my vows are everything.’

‘Would God want this?’ asked Dean. ‘I can never understand why people think that priests can’t marry, I can’t understand why a man loving another man is wrong! Because _God_ says so? I’m sorry, but I just don’t get it.’

‘The bible is clear on this, Dean.’

‘I don’t care, Cas. I reckon that God would want me to be happy, and he’d want you to be as well. I’d be happy with you Cas. I reckon you feel the same way ‘bout me. If God made us, and if he loves us so much, why wouldn’t he want us to be happy?’

Cas resumed his pacing, running hands anxiously through his dark hair, which had been thoroughly messed under Dean’s calloused hands.

‘Cas, please.’

The pleading in Dean’s voice stopped Cas in his tracks. He looked at Dean, who was looking at him with a heartbroken expression.

‘Please, Cas. I need you.’

Cas looked away from Dean. He was trembling.

‘Look, this is gonna sound really corny, but here it is,’ said Dean. ‘I really don’t wanna live without you.’

Cas sighed. ‘I will always be here for you, Dean.’

‘You know what I mean. Come here. Please.’

Cas looked around, but the area around them was deserted. In the distance, he could still hear the band playing in the main homestead, but he did not recognise the tune.

He approached Dean slowly, hands firmly by his sides. Dean reached out and cupped his face in his hand. Cas closed his eyes and leaned into it, seemingly involuntarily. They were so close now that he could feel Dean’s every breath on his face.

They kissed, softly at first, then more passionately. Before he knew it, Dean had Cas pressed up against the barn wall, kissing every part of exposed skin he could reach and grinding his hips into him. Cas couldn’t stop. He could only respond with small moans and let Dean put his hands all over him. He reached under Dean’s jacket, and Dean pulled it off. Cas tugged at his shirt until it was released from the tight waistband of his trousers, and traced long scratches down his back. Dean moaned, and his knees buckled.

Dean untied Cas’ tie and tugged it hard before throwing it to the ground. He fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Cas’ breath was extremely laboured and uneven. He was rock hard, and he thrust his hips into Dean’s torso as he ripped off the priest’s shirt. _Is this really happening?_ he thought thickly.

Cas and Dean both began unbuckling their belts and pants. They were both so engrossed in what they were doing, they did not hear the crackling of twigs that would have alerted them that somebody was approaching.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters two and three were originally one long chapter, but I decided I wanted each chapter a little shorter so I split them up. :)
> 
> Wondering when the next update is? [Just check the updates tag.](http://tastycas.tumblr.com/tagged/btltag/)


	4. Possession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back in the barn where they first met, the relationship between Dean and Father Cas is changed forever. Soon, they know they will have to deal with the consequences, but right now they have this night, together.
> 
> (A/N This chapter contains explicit sexual activity)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter. It's a lot longer that the last three and the editing took a while, but I think the chapters will work better at this length. I hope it more than makes up for the cliffhanger I left at the end of chapter three. (Sorry!)
> 
> Enjoy!

**Chapter Four**

Possession

 

Dean couldn’t believe this was happening.

It was _finally_ happening. He had Father Cas ( _no_ , Cas) pinned up against the barn, and the priest was making sounds under Dean’s lips that were making him lose his mind. Dean didn’t think he’d ever been so horny in his life, and his hips grinded uncontrollably up against the priest.

Dean kissed his lips, his cheeks, his neck, his chest; Cas’ skin tasted of sweat and Dean breathed in the familiar scent of him until he was lightheaded. Cas pulled at Dean’s jacket, and Dean took this as a sign that Cas wanted this as badly as he did. He threw his jacket to the ground as Cas reached up under his shirt and ran his nails down Dean’s back, and Dean’s entire body vibrated with chills. His legs nearly gave way, and he had to make a conscious effort to stop himself from sliding to the ground.

Dean removed Cas’ tie and began unbuttoning his shirt; the priest’s smooth chest was heaving, and both of them began unbuckling their belts and kicking off their shoes.

Dean grabbed the waistband of Cas’ pants and yanked them down. He slowly lowered to his knees, planting kisses from Cas’ chest all the way down his abs and along his pelvic bone. Dean’s face was inches from Cas’ cock, and he could see the line of his erection straining through his white underpants.

‘Are you sure this okay?’ croaked Dean.

Cas moaned and thrust his hips towards Dean’s face in response; Dean chuckled nervously and rubbed his hand down the priest’s hard cock through the cotton restraining it. He slipped his fingers under the waistband of the underpants, and pulled them down around his ankles, releasing Cas’ dick. It was longer than Dean’s, but thinner, and it twitched under Dean’s short sharp breaths. All he could think of was what it might be like to take it into his mouth, what kind of sounds Cas might make if he did.

The thought of it made Dean feel shaky, and he took a couple of deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.

Dean had never done this before. His heart was beating so hard in his chest he thought it might burst. He took Cas’ cock into his hand and rubbed a thumb experimentally over the tip; Cas’ moan encouraged him, and he began pumping him steadily in his hand, doing it the way Dean liked doing it to himself.

Cas had a hand placed firmly on Dean’s shoulder, grasping at it so hard that Dean was sure it was going to leave a bruise. The thought of that excited him. To be marked my Cas, for him to leave something that Dean could look at after this was over, it was almost like the priest was taking possession of him, leaving evidence that they had been together in this way. Dean leaned in closer and hesitantly took Cas into his mouth.

Suddenly Cas yelped and pulled away.

‘I’m sorry, did I hurt—?’

‘No, someone’s coming,’ hissed Cas.

‘Shit!’

Cas hastily pulled up his underpants as Dean shot to his feet. Dean could hear it now; footsteps, fast approaching down the hill. Cas darted into the barn, leaving his pants and shoes behind on the ground. Dean went to grab them and run, but it was too late. He hastily kicked them into the nearby bush, and turned to face their interrupter. He could hear two people laughing; it sounded like a woman and man.

They turned the corner. It was Sam, running along hand in hand with Jessica Moore.

‘Dean?’ he said, obviously confused, squinting through the darkness at his older brother.

‘Sam,’ said Dean, half relieved, half annoyed.

‘What are you doing out here?’ he asked.

‘I—I could ask you the same thing.’ He nodded towards Jessica.

‘Oh, u-um,’ she stuttered, ‘my father let me come after all.’

‘This late? When the party is almost over?’ Dean raised his eyebrows at his brother, who shrugged.

‘Right,’ said Dean gruffly, ‘how about you two move along and – you didn’t see me, I didn’t see you. No questions asked.’

Sam and Jessica nodded nervously and turned to leave; Dean let out a sigh of relief.

‘Thanks, Dean,’ said Sam, quietly over his shoulder.

Dean chuckled under his breath as he watched them go. Sam had thought Dean helped _him_ out. Sam was running through the plains giggling with his girl friend – Dean had been about to suck the local priest’s cock.

He waited until they were gone before retrieving Cas’ clothes from under the bush and slipping quietly into the barn. He found the priest crouched down behind a wheelbarrow in the corner.

‘It was only Sam,’ he said, ‘creeping off from the party with his girl friend.’

‘Yes, I heard.’

‘That was close.’

‘Yes, yes it was.’

Dean sat down before Cas in the hay.

‘He didn’t ask you what you were doing out here alone?’ asked Cas.

‘Nah, I turned it around on him. Mr Moore would murder him if he knew he was running around in the dark alone with Jess, so he was pretty keen to get away.’

‘He doesn’t think you’d tell Mr Moore?’

‘Probably not. I wouldn’t tell anybody, but I guess he didn’t wanna take the risk of askin’ me questions and pissin’ me off.’

Cas nodded. He was looking up at Dean in that cute way he always did, out of the corner of his eye, with a sort of half-smile on his face.

Dean grinned at him, then his grin faded when he realised that perhaps Cas had been turned off by the interruption.

‘Would you like your clothes back?’ he asked, holding out Cas’ pants and shoes.

Cas extended his hand, but he did not take the clothes; he ran his fingers up Dean’s arm, pressing fingers into his skin through his shirt.

‘Not yet.’

Dean breathed a sigh of relief, and Cas grinned.

‘I thought you’d wanna stop.’

‘Don’t make me think. Don’t think,’ whispered Cas, and he raised himself up onto his knees to kiss Dean deeply.

Now alone and not fearing any more immediate interruptions, Dean had time to appreciate every second, every feeling; the curve of his spine, the sharpness of his hip bones, the softness of his lips; perfectly hard or soft or smooth in all the right places. Dean felt the light stubble on Cas’ cheek that could barely be seen, but still felt as Dean grazed his thumb along the priest’s jaw. It felt like the champagne on Cas’ breath was reaching Dean’s brain, bubbly and fuzzy, making him light-headed.

Cas didn’t break their kiss as he coaxed Dean over onto higher, softer ground. Dean collapsed on top of him, both of them laughing a little as Cas shifted his shoulders to stop his head from sinking into the golden heap of hay beneath them.

For a moment their eyes locked; Cas gazed up at Dean with his lovely blue eyes, a smile on his face, fingers tracing his cheek.

His smile slowly disappeared, and Dean kissed his neck before he could change his mind again. He unbuttoned Cas’ shirt for the second time that night, and placed kisses down his stomach, removing his underpants and throwing them somewhere behind him.

Cas’ cock was standing to attention. Dean grasped it and Cas took a long intake of breath through clenched teeth before making a little _o_ with his mouth and exhaling slowly. Dean got up to a kneeling position and took off his pants, as Cas sat up to unbutton and remove Dean’s shirt.

Dean was now kneeling before the priest, completely naked. Cas lay back down, donning only his white and opened shirt, which spread out underneath his back like a pair of angel’s wings.

Dean collapsed upon him and moaned quietly into his ear as they rocked their hips against each other, their cocks dragging against each other smoothly. Dean spit into his palm and reached between them to grab Cas’ dick; Cas thrust his hips jaggedly into his hand, grunting with his eyes shut tight as he dug his fingernails into Dean’s back.

Cas’ lowered his hand and pushed Dean’s away, and he stroked himself for a few moments; Dean thought it was because he had been doing something wrong, but then realised that Cas was only lubricating his hand when he traced his finger’s up Dean’s shaft and grasped the head of his cock firmly.

‘Ffffuck,’ groaned Dean. He’d never been touched like this before. The wondrous feeling shot through his hard cock, but the _big_ feeling was the one that had settled in his stomach; nerves and arousal and love balling up inside of him into one beautiful jumbled mess of physical feeling and emotion.

They stayed like that for a while, stroking each other in unison, panting and whining and grunting in each others’ hands, thrusting their hips faster and faster.

‘N-need ... more,’ Dean managed to pant.

‘What do I do?’ whispered Cas. ‘Tell me what to do, I’ll do it.’

Dean thought about this for a moment. There was so much he wanted, and he could only choose one. One fantasy did spring into his mind, one he’d been dreaming of for years ... but he wasn’t sure if Cas was ready for it. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if it was _normal._ But maybe he could have something like it.

‘Get on top of me,’ he whispered, and the words had barely left his lips when Cas sat up and flipped Dean onto his back. He climbed on top of him; Dean’s left leg was wedged between each of the priest’s. He looked so good; Cas was gazing down at Dean, a slight half-smile upon his face, one eyebrow cocked. Dean’s dick twitched almost painfully, and he let out a shaky breath.

He reached up and pushed Cas’ shirt of his shoulders, and Cas slipped out of it.

‘I need to be in your mouth,’ whispered Dean.

Cas wasted no time in obliging. He crawled backwards until his face was aligned with Dean’s dick; he dipped down and Dean could see the curve of his ass silhouetted against the moonlight pouring in from outside. Cas licked slowly up the shaft and around the head. Dean let out a loud groan, throwing his head back, using all his will-power to not come there and then. He could feel it building up in him, and fast. He wasn’t going to hold it back much longer.

‘S-stop!’ he said, sitting up urgently.

Cas shot up onto his knees. ‘Did I hurt you?’

‘No, I’m just not going to last,’ said Dean with a breathless chuckle. He looked at Cas hesitantly. ‘Did you mean it when you said I could ask for anything?’

‘Of course,’ replied Cas.

‘I want to suck you,’ said Dean quietly, lowering his head to hide his blush, ‘and can y-you pull my hair? And ... make me?’

‘Make you?’

‘Make me feel like you’re forcing me to ... look actually, never mind, it’s weird.’

Cas looked at Dean’s face, obviously contemplating. He placed two fingers under Dean’s chin to make him look at him.

‘I’ll do whatever you want.’

‘You ... you don’t mind?’

‘I just want you to enjoy this.’

The unspoken words lingered between them. This may be the first and last time they ever have each other in this way.

‘Thank you,’ said Dean.

‘I don’t want to hurt you, so just tell me if—’

‘No, no,’ said Dean. Cas had misunderstood. ‘I want you to hurt me.’

‘You want me to hurt you?’

‘Not badly. Just ... a bit.’

Dean felt nervous, because Cas looked confused and a little worried. Was he thinking that Dean was a freak? He had now made it quite obvious that he’d thought this through, that he had fantasised about the priest – or at least about having sex with a man. But Cas was here with him now, naked, touching his body, he must have thought about it too.

‘If you’re not comfortable ...’

‘No, I’m fine,’ said Cas. ‘Come on.’

‘If I want you to go harder I’ll squeeze your leg,’ said Dean. ‘If you’re hurting me too bad, I’ll squeeze your arm.’

‘All right,’ said Cas, laying back down, and he looked a little less nervous.

He pulled Dean gently by the shoulders. Dean took him into his mouth, and they both groaned. Cas tasted so fucking good. The priest’s fingers were twisted up in Dean’s hair, tugging gently. Dean let him do it this way for a while, sucking Cas’ cock slow and wet.

The priest was making all sorts of heavenly sounds. _Oohs_ and _Mms_ and _Fffuhs._ Dean secretly wanted to make him cuss, but it didn’t seem to be working. He supposed the priestly politeness was too deeply ingrained in him, even when he was getting his dick sucked by another man.

Dean experimented with rhythm, depth, speed. It felt clumsy and unorganised to him, but Cas seemed to love it all, those sounds still pouring from his mouth like the most beautiful music Dean had ever heard.

He squeezed Cas’ thigh, thinking him ready, and for a moment Cas did not respond. Then, seemingly remembering what this gesture meant, he tugged on Dean’s hair so suddenly that his cock almost slipped out of his mouth. To compensate, Dean almost took Cas’ whole length into his mouth, repressing his gag reflex best he could as its tip tickled the back of his throat. He couldn’t go all the way, so he moved back to a more comfortable depth, but it still achieved the desired effect. Cas’ moan was loud and long, and in response he tugged Dean’s hair so hard that he thought he felt some of it come out by the root.

‘ _So_ good, Dean,’ he groaned with a small breathy laugh.

 _That_ was more like it. A strong tingly feeling travelled from Dean’s scalp all the way down his spine.

‘Oh yeahhh,’ drawled Cas, his voice gravel, ‘right there. Right _there_ , Dean.’

He whimpered as Dean released his cock.

‘Make me,’ he whispered. It wasn’t a challenge, but a request.

Cas seemed to understand. He balled his fists into Dean’s hair and pushed his head down onto his cock, pulled it up, pushed it back down.

 _Fuck, this is hot_ , thought Dean, his every movement under complete control from the priest. He’d fantasised about this in a hundred different ways, and it was just as good as he imagined. No, it was better. Then, Cas placed his hands on both sides of Dean’s head and held him still as he thrust up into his mouth. The position was sort of awkward, and it didn’t really work fluidly, but Cas looked _so good_ doing it that Dean lost it.

One arm trembled beneath Dean as it supported all his weight, while his other hand rapidly stroked his own dick.

Cas collapsed back onto the hay and Dean concentrated hard at trying to suck Cas’ cock while stroking his own, something that took much more coordination than he would have anticipated. Still, Cas was still making those wonderful sounds and tugging Dean’s hair and bucking his hips wildly.

Dean felt him go tense and he let go of his own dick to concentrate solely on Cas.

‘Oh, Dean I’m going to ... I’m ... _Ohhh._ ’

Dean hadn’t thought about what he was going to do when Cas climaxed, but it was too late now; he jerked violently and blew a hot load into Dean’s mouth. The taste was salty but not entirely unpleasant, though the sensation of it hitting the back of his throat was. He tolerated it until Cas went still, and leaned over to spit it out into the hay.

‘Oh, _wow_ ,’ said Cas.

‘Good?’ asked Dean, an eyebrow raised. He couldn’t stop smiling. Watching Cas gasping and sweating in the afterglow of orgasm, flushed and messy-haired – all because of _him_ – well, it was hard not to feel cocky.

‘ _Very_ good,’ panted Cas.

Silently, Cas sat up and kissed him deeply, one hand lightly placed upon his cheek. There was something strangely erotic in knowing that Cas could probably taste himself on Dean’s tongue. Slowly, Dean was once again pushed on his back into the hay. Cas pinned him down as he breathed into his ear.

‘I love you, Dean,’ he whispered.

Dean laughed happily, and bizarrely, tears immediately sprung to his eyes.

‘I love you too, Cas,’ he replied in a choked voice, grateful that the full extent of his emotions probably went unseen by Cas in the dim lighting. ‘I fuckin’ love you.’

Cas smiled down at Dean, with that special fond (or as Dean now knew, _loving)_ expression he reserved only for him. Cas traced his tongue over Dean’s nipple, and looked up at him hesitantly. He ran both hands lightly up Dean’s stomach and Dean groaned.

‘Fuck, Cas.’ Dean was so turned on he could feel his heart beat in his cock, his balls ached. ‘Touch me. Please, touch me.’

Cas reached down and seized Dean’s dick, pumping slow and long.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ murmured Dean. ‘Yeah just like that.’

Cas sucked the head as the pumped the rest of the length, occasionally taking the whole cock into his mouth for lubrication. His free hand was grasping Dean’s thigh, he dug his nails into the hot skin just enough so it would hurt.

Dean knew he wasn’t going to last. ‘Fuck, it’s happening, I’m gonna come,’ he moaned shakily.

‘Come for me Dean,’ growled Cas, ‘come for me.’

The sound of Cas saying that only brought him closer. His cock was slick with spit, and he felt the ecstasy build up inside him as Cas pumped faster and faster. He was thrusting into his mouth jerkily and with no rhythm, Cas held his hips down and sucked him hard.

Dean couldn’t hold off anymore. The feeling built up for almost a whole minute, longer and more intense than it ever had while Dean pleasured himself. He came hard and it seemed like a very long time before the pleasure stopped rolling through him. When Cas released him, he was still rocking his hips, thrusting up against nothing. He looked down at Cas to see that he had come all over his chest.

‘Shit, sorry,’ he laughed breathily.

Cas smiled and shook his head. He disappeared for a moment and when he returned he was wiping his chest with an old stained rag. He folded it over to hide the wet patch before handing it to Dean.

‘I’m sorry, this is all I can find.’

Dean took the proffered rag and attempted to tidy up. It was no use, so he used his underwear instead, he could just wear his pants with nothing underneath and stuff the underwear into his pocket.

‘Shit,’ said Dean, as something occurred to him. ‘How can we go back to the party looking like this? Our clothes’ll be filthy.’

‘We can go back to the guest house,’ said Cas thoughtfully. ‘That’s where I’m sleeping. I think I should just stay there instead of returning to the party.’

‘How long have we been out here?’

Cas picked up his jacket from the ground and attempted to brush the dust off with his hand, before reaching into the pocket to retrieve his pocket watch.

He flicked it open. ‘Almost two hours,’ he said.

‘Wow,’ said Dean. ‘That went quick. Well, nobody’s come looking for us. Maybe everyone’s too drunk to notice.’

‘That’s probable,’ replied Cas, pulling on his underwear and his pants. He retrieved his shirt from the ground and put it on, then draped his jacket over his shoulder. ‘You should probably just go back home. Oh, but your father and brother might be there.’

‘I think Sam would still be with Jess,’ said Dean. ‘They’re probably getting up to the same thing we were ... but yeah, Dad might be home.’

‘I’d offer for you to stay with me tonight, but it might be a risk,’ replied Cas.

‘I’ll go check out my place and see if anyone’s home before we decide anything.’

‘Wait,’ said Cas, sitting down beside him. ‘I want to talk to you for a moment.’

Dean’s stomach turned, and the anxiety must have showed on his face.

‘It’s nothing bad,’ said Cas kindly.

Relieved, Dean took Cas’ hand. He should have felt exposed, really, still completely naked next to the almost fully dressed Cas. But he didn’t. He trusted the priest completely, he felt fully comfortable with him, always, even in this situation.

Dean looked at Cas’ dark wild hair and chuckled. He tried to smooth it down; it worked somewhat, but the neat part that had been there previously was now lost. Cas returned the favour and Dean noticed for the first time that his head was quite sore from the hair-pulling. Still, his scalp tingled pleasantly under Cas’ touch.

‘Did I hurt you?’ asked Cas, obviously noticing Dean flinch.

‘No. I mean, yeah, but that was the point wasn’t it? I’m fine.’

Cas reached for Dean’s hand and ran his thumb up and down his palm, making Dean’s breath catch in his throat.

‘What did you want to talk about?’ he asked.

‘I just wanted you to know ... that _this_ ... this thing that happened between us, it wasn’t purely sexual. I meant it when I said that I love you.’

‘I know,’ whispered Dean. ‘I meant it too.’

‘Though breaking my vow of chastity is not ideal – well, I should say it’s the worst thing I’ve ever done, spiritually speaking – I wouldn’t ... break it for anything less than love. You mean a lot to me Dean.’

‘I know.’

‘What ...’ Dean could barely bear to bring it up, but he knew he needed to. ‘What about the church? What about _God_? Are you sure you’re okay?’

‘I think I am. I feel good right now.’

They squeezed each other’s hands and smiled.

‘Do you ... think God is angry at us?’ asked Dean, so quietly that he was surprised that Cas heard him.

‘I ...’ Cas sighed and looked at the ground. For the first time in the past hour, he looked doubtful. ‘I’ll worry about that tomorrow. And speaking of tomorrow, at mass, we need act as normally as possible. If anyone even so much suspects _anything_ , Dean, it could be very bad for us.’

‘I’m well aware of what can happen to queers around here. Remember John Smeath?’

They looked away from each other for a moment, contemplating John Smeath, who only last year was drunk in the gentlemen’s bathroom at a bar in town, when he tried to kiss one of his closest friends.

The so-called _friend_ immediately turned on him. Word of Smeath’s alleged homosexuality got out quickly and as a consequence, Mr Smeath was cornered in an alley by a group of men, in broad daylight, and was beaten within an inch of his life. He survived and moved out of the state, but from what Dean had heard, he had never been quite the same after the attack. The attackers were never caught. Nobody really even looked for them.

‘I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, Dean,’ whispered Cas, who seemed to be thinking along the same lines. ‘If something bad happens to you and it’s because of me, I’d never be able to forgive myself.’

‘Hey, I’m not the only one taking risks here,’ said Dean. ‘You are too. Anyway, Smeath did it in public, he made a mistake while he was drunk. He kissed someone who didn’t want it. We’re different. We’ll be careful. Nothing bad is gonna happen to me or you.’

‘I certainly hope not,’ said Cas, his brow creased with worry. Dean reached up to smooth it out, then he cupped Cas’ cheek in his hand. Cas closed his eyes and leaned towards Dean’s lips.

‘Everything is going to be great.’ Dean whispered into Cas’ mouth, placing a small kiss there. ‘It really is. I promise.’

And at that moment, Dean believed that. He really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Dean's little pain fetish wasn't something I planned, it came out of nowhere but I'm enjoying it a lot. :)  
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Wondering when the next update is? [Just check the updates tag.](http://tastycas.tumblr.com/tagged/btltag/)


	5. Catholic Guilt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is having some very naughty thoughts in Church.
> 
> Meanwhile, Father Cas suspects that Samuel Campbell may know what is going on between him and his grandson.

**Chapter Five**

Catholic Guilt

 

Cas was nervous as he drove up the long dirt road that led to Campbell Ranch. The night before, for the first time in at least fifteen years, he had not said his prayers before going to bed. He tossed and turned for hours, trying not to think, too guilty to think about God or his Church, even guiltier thinking about Dean.

He arose at dawn, with just enough time to bathe and to return to the barn where he’d remembered he’d left his tie. He found it snared in a bush by the door, and shoved it into his pocket, relieved to have found it.

He stumbled into the main homestead for Mass five minutes late, haggard and uneasy. As always, Dean sat up front with Samuel, John and Sam. He and Dean did not speak to one another, did not dare meet each other’s eyes. Later, it would occur to Cas that this behaviour may have been suspicious in itself, but thankfully nobody seemed to notice.

Cas’ homily was about living one’s life in a way that pleases God – thankfully, he had written it _before_ his and Dean’s rendezvous in the barn. At least the words were good enough to make up for the lack of enthusiasm in their delivery.

He bade goodbye to the parishioners and drove through town to complete his rounds, visiting four different families, before heading back to the ranch to pick up Dean for Mass at St. Augustine’s as he’d promised he would the night before saying farewell (thankfully, Dean’s father and brother were still out when he got home).

Cas had walked him back to the homestead from the barn. They’d walked side by side in comfortable silence, Dean holding his shoes, intermittently smiling at each other and walking close enough so that their hands brushed up against each other. It was funny after everything they’d done with each other, this small touch gave Cas goose bumps.

Cas’ attention returned to the road as he reached the gates of Campbell Ranch. He got out of his car to open the gate, but someone had beaten him to it.

‘Dean,’ he said, amused, ‘were you waiting here for me?’

Dean was wearing a dark burgundy button-up shirt, a large buckled belt, tight jeans and brown cowboy boots. He removed his tan hat upon seeing Cas.

‘Don’t flatter yourself, Father.’ He said this jokingly, but glanced pointedly to the left. ‘We were just on our way back from branding some heifers.’

Sam emerged from behind the high stone wall. He removed his hat as well, to reveal that his chestnut hair was once again scruffy and falling into his eyes.

‘Father,’ he said, ‘you’re here very early. How are you?’

‘Very well, thank you,’ replied Cas, shaking Sam’s hand. ‘I had nothing else to do so I thought I’d spend some time here before Mass. Did you enjoy the party last night?’

‘Yeah,’ said Sam. Cas suspected that the twinkle in his eye was caused by the memory of Miss Moore. ‘I had a really good time. You?’

Cas couldn’t quite meet Sam’s eye when he replied. ‘Yes, I had a very nice time, thank you Sam.’

Dean looked away with a slight smirk.

‘So, I suppose we should get going,’ said Cas, consulting his pocket watch. ‘Did you want to come with us, Sam? There’s room in the car for you.’

‘Uh, no, I already promised Grandpa I’d meet with the new housekeeper,’ replied Sam. ‘He doesn’t have time to show her around.’

‘More like he can’t be bothered,’ mumbled Dean. Sam shot him an annoyed look.

‘Well, maybe next time,’ said Cas. He was secretly glad that Sam had refused his invitation. ‘Are you ready, Dean?’

‘Actually, Father,’ said Sam, ‘I was just speaking to Grandpa about you – he said he wants to see you urgently.’

Cas glanced quickly at Dean. Going by his expression, he had no idea about this either.

‘To me?’ asked Cas, nervously.

‘Yeah, he told me to tell you when you arrived.’

‘Well, okay,’ said Cas, glad that he’d arrived at the ranch with plenty of time to spare before Mass. ‘I don’t suppose this should take too long, where shall I meet you, Dean?’

‘I was going to take a break anyway, I’ll wait at home,’ said Dean.

‘Okay, I’ll meet you there,’ said Cas.

Sam turned away and Cas and Dean exchanged a loaded look. Cas knew that they were both thinking the same thing. Samuel never asked to see Cas urgently. What if he knew? Perhaps Samuel had noticed them acting strangely that morning after all.

Cas hopped back into his car and drove up the hill to the main homestead. Nobody answered the door when he knocked; he cracked it open nervously, and its hinges groaned loudly in protest.

‘Hello?’ he called. ‘Is anyone here?’

‘Who’s that?’ came a woman’s voice.

The door swung open to reveal Mrs Milligan, her blonde hair pulled back in a shiny bun, and a broad smile on her face.

‘Oh, hello Father,’ she said. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.’

‘You weren’t?’ asked Cas. Perhaps that was a good sign. Surely Samuel would have been in a foul mood if he knew something about Cas and his grandson.

‘No, Mr Campbell has been in the library all day,’ she replied.

Cas’ heart sunk. So much for that theory.

‘Sam just told me that Mr Campbell wanted to see me immediately.’

‘Oh really? Well, he’s still in the library now. Follow me.’

They walked up the ornate wooden staircase, the sound of their footsteps echoing off the walls.

‘He hasn’t been himself, you know,’ said Mrs Milligan quietly.

‘Mr Campbell?’

‘Mhm,’ she murmured quietly, slowing her step. ‘He’s been locking himself away, not seeing anybody.’

‘Sam did mention that he was meeting with the new housekeeper because Mr Campbell was too busy,’ said Cas.

‘Yes, that’s exactly what I mean,’ said Mrs Milligan. ‘He’s usually so hands on with new staff – it was especially strange seeing as she’s the new  _housekeeper_ … you know how picky he is when it comes to how things are done around this place, plus he’s such a private man, you’d think he would want to see in person if she’s a right match for him. Adam’s been such a handful lately, I haven’t been able to keep up with it all … it’ll be so much better having a second set of hands around this massive place. Anyway, you know where the library is, Father, go on through.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Milligan,’ said Cas, and they parted ways at the landing of the staircase.

Cas walked down the long hall to the door at the very end, and knocked. He waited several moments, then knocked again.

‘Come in,’ said Samuel’s voice from the other side.

Cas entered, and was startled to see that Samuel was not alone. He was sitting at his large solid wood desk, and standing next to him was John Winchester.

‘Father,’ said Samuel slowly, and Cas noted that he looked sick, ‘just in time.’

‘You wanted to see me?’

‘Yes, I was wondering if you could sign this for me.’

‘Of course,’ said Cas, approaching the desk. ‘John, how are you?’

‘I’m well, thank you,’ said John, though he didn’t look well at all. His thick, dark brows were furrowed, his jaw was tight under the thick stubble; he looked very tense. He always did around Samuel.

An animosity grew between them after Mary died, for each of them blamed the other for her death. Cas had heard both sides of the story many times during confession. Samuel blamed John for not being home when old Yellow Eyes showed up, and John blamed Samuel for keeping Yellow Eyes no matter how far he seemed to be slipping into alcoholism and insanity.

Neither of them could find it within themselves to forgive the other.

‘It’s just my new will,’ said Samuel. ‘I need you as witnesses as I sign it. It’s only a few tweaks here and there, but I’d really like it done today.’

He leaned over his desk and signed the paper, before pushing it to the left towards John. John signed it too, then stepped away to make room for Cas.

Cas wrote his signature above the thin line labelled _witness_ , careful not to read anything above, lest he unintentionally invade Samuel’s privacy.

He glanced over at John once he’d signed, to see that he looked nervous. Cas thought he knew why. Any changes to Samuel’s will could potentially alter John’s future on Campbell Ranch … but Cas thought any worry was unwarranted. After all, Samuel had no other surviving family, who would he leave the ranch to instead of his own grandsons?

Cas had other concerns. Why was it so important for _him_ to sign? Why not Mrs Milligan? Why not one of the dozens of staff already present on the ranch? Why did Samuel wait for him specifically?

‘Thank you, gentlemen,’ said Samuel brusquely, and he folded the will up to push it into an envelope, lighting a match to seal it with dark red wax. ‘John, you can get back to work, I’d like some private words with Father Castiel.’

‘It was nice seeing you, Father,’ said John. His jaw was still clenched – and Cas’ heart jumped, because it reminded him so of Dean. In this mysterious setting, he’d briefly forgotten his previous fears.

‘Nice to see you too,’ said Cas, trying to keep his voice even.

‘Take a seat,’ said Samuel, indicating to an armchair by the window.

‘I uh – was surprised to see John here,’ said Cas. ‘Mrs Milligan was under the impression that you were alone.’

‘John arrived while she was out back in the garden. I answered the door. Would you like anything? Coffee? Water?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Well then, I’ll just come right out with it. I want you to take this,’ said Samuel, holding out the envelope that contained his will, ‘and take it into town with you his afternoon. My lawyer’s office it only a few blocks from St Augustine’s, his name is Michael Guenther, and he’ll be waiting for you. Give him the will, and your job is done – but this is very important Father, he _must_ receive it before five-thirty. Do you understand?’

‘Uhh,’ said Cas. His mouth was wide open, but he couldn’t help it, this was very far from what he was expecting, very far from _anything_ he would have expected. ‘Is everything okay, Samuel?’

‘Of course!’ said Samuel. ‘He’s going on vacation tomorrow, and I need to get it in today before the office closes or I’ll have to wait two months for him to get back.’

‘Oh, okay,’ said Cas, taking the will. ‘That makes sense.’

‘Thank you,’ said Samuel, handing Cas a folded up square of paper. ‘This is his address.’

‘I’ll come back when I drop Dean off and tell you that I dropped it off,’ said Cas, standing and heading for the door. ‘Good bye.’

‘Castiel, wait.’

‘Yes?’ said Cas, turning back, his hand on the door knob.

‘I just want you to know that I’ve very much appreciated your friendship over these last couple of years. And for taking Dean under your wing. I really appreciate that … but _look after him_. Don’t let any weird ideas get in his head. Do you understand?’

Cas’ heart leapt into his chest. ‘Um, yes, of course.’

‘Okay, good bye.’

 _Does he know?_ thought Cas, and he couldn’t breathe until he was back in his car and driving down to the Winchester homestead.

Cas decided not to mention anything about his conversation with Samuel to Dean. It would only worry him. Dean was waiting on the porch for him when he arrived.

‘Everything okay?’ he asked, eyes wide.

‘Yes, your grandfather just wanted me to be witness to some papers he was signing,’ said Cas.

‘Oh, good,’ said Dean, visibly relaxing.

‘Do you have more work to do, or?’

‘Nope, Dad’s gone into town and he won’t be back ‘til tonight,’ said Dean, grinning widely, ‘so I’m sittin’ pretty.’

‘You’re still not dressed for church,’ said Cas, with a smile.

Dean shrugged, and smiled back. ‘We got time.’

‘Is Sam here?’

‘Nope, he’s gone into town with Dad … you know, for a moment this morning, I thought he knew.’

‘Who, Sam? About us?’ asked Cas nervously.

‘Don’t worry, it was a false alarm. He brought up how I disappeared from the party, then you did, and neither of us came back. But it was just an innocent comment. He spent the next two hours talking about Jessica.’

‘Did he bring up last night, when he interrupted us at the barn?’

‘Yeah, but I think he thought I was with a girl.’ He laughed wryly.

‘I left my tie behind,’ said Cas, ‘it was lucky he didn’t see it.’

‘Oh, shit, I must’ve missed it when I brought you your clothes. I threw them in a bush when I heard him coming.’

‘Yes, that’s where I found the tie this morning. It’s fine.’

‘Oh, good. I doubt anybody looked at you hard enough to recognise your tie anyway … except me, maybe.’ He grinned.‘Do you wanna come in?’

‘I’d like to, but I think it would be best if I wait out here.’

‘Sam and Dad are gonna be gone for ages,’ said Dean. ‘Come on, it’s fine. You’ve come in loads of times before. The plan is to act natural, right?’

Cas laughed looked up at Dean, who had an edge of nervousness in his grin.

‘Oh, all right,’ said Cas, walking up the steps and following Dean into the house.

The Winchesters’ home was simple, but Cas had always liked it very much. The main room served as living area, kitchen and dining. It smelled of dust and gunpowder, but also of baking, and a scent he could never fully identify, which he had named, in his head, _Dean’s smell._ He breathed in deeply as Dean placed his hat on the table and opened the ice box.

‘Would you like anything? Coffee, or ...?’

‘No, thank you,’ said Cas. ‘I had something in town.’

‘We’re not going to be late, are we? I don’t remember how long the drive is.’

‘No, we have a lot time,’ said Cas, immediately feeling ashamed of the hidden meaning behind his sentence.

It was strange. He’d resolved that morning to tell Dean that, though he meant everything he said the night before, and that what happened between them was wonderful, it could never happen again. Now he was in his presence, he couldn’t bear to say it. Not only because he didn’t want to hurt Dean, but because it was would hurt Cas deeply if he could never have him again.

Dean was standing in the small kitchen area, not moving, looking at Cas, his expression one of uncertainty.

‘Are you all right, Dean?’

‘You just look like you have something to say to me,’ he replied.

‘I do,’ said Cas, sighing and walking over to join Dean in the kitchen. ‘I came here with every intention of saying we should keep our distance – hey,’ he quickly touched Dean’s cheek when the younger man dropped his head, looking devastated.

‘But that isn’t what I want,’ Cas went on.

‘What do you want?’

‘I’m not sure, but I know what I don’t want. I don’t want to lose my priesthood. I don’t want to displease God. I don’t want to lose you. And I don’t just want to be your priest, I don’t want to just be your friend.’

‘Those things don’t really go together, Cas.’

‘I know,’ said Cas sadly, taking Dean’s hand. ‘And that is why I can’t decide what I want.’

‘I know what I want,’ said Dean. ‘I want all that to be able to go together.’

‘So do I,’ said Cas with a sad smile. He cleared his throat. ‘But ... these things are as they are because it’s what God wants of us.’

Dean furrowed his brow at Cas. For a moment, he looked as though he wanted to say something, but he turned away from the priest instead.

‘I’m going to get changed, I won’t be long.’

‘Dean ...’

‘Mmm?’

Cas walked over to Dean and grasped him by the shoulder. Dean spun to face him, and he licked his lips before saying, ‘What?’

Cas squeezed his shoulder, and he winced.

‘I have a bruise,’ said Dean.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Cas, releasing him. ‘What from?’

Dean smiled and looked at the floor.

‘Oh, right.’ Cas smirked and ran a hand through his hair. ‘Look, I didn’t mean to upset you.’

‘You didn’t.’

‘Was it what I said about God?’

‘I’m not upset, Cas.’

‘Are you angry with me?’

‘I – look. Sammy was raised with this stuff for as long as he can remember, but me ... well, before Mom died, we went to church and said grace and stuff, but outside of that our parents barely mentioned God. Dad turned really religious after she died. _Because_ she died. I remember it. It comforted him, I guess, but I remember when none of it was a big deal, and I s’pose that stuck with me. And ... I was angry at him for a long time.’

‘Angry with your father?’

‘No, with God. I couldn’t see sense in her death. I was little, and I wanted to know why God let it happen.’

‘Sometimes, Dean—’

‘Yeah I know, _God’s plan, mysterious ways_ , I get it. I’ve made my peace with that. I’m not askin’ you for an explanation. But I’m just telling you ... well, I don’t want God to take you away from me too. I know it’s a lot to ask. You’ve dedicated your life to this, and you’re a great priest.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ mumbled Cas.

‘You are – even if what happened between us makes it complicated. It’s a lot to ask of you, to ask you to ... t-to choose me. So I won’t ask it. I won’t even bring it up. Whatever happens, happens. I just want you to see where I’m coming from.’

‘I do see where you’re coming from,’ replied Cas. ‘You ... are truly a great man, Dean. You know that?’

Dean shrugged.

‘No, I mean it,’ insisted Cas, ‘you really are.’

‘Well, thanks Cas,’ mumbled Dean, a slight blush creeping over his lightly freckled face.

Cas grinned and reached up to run a hand down Dean’s cheek; his stubble was already thicker than it was the night before, and his skin still was warm and moist from working in the sun.

Dean exhaled loudly through his nose and closed his eyes at Cas’ touch. He reached up and covered Cas’ hand with his own, pressing the priest’s fingers harder into his cheekbone. Cas ran a thumb lightly over his lips, down his jaw, and grasped him by the back of the neck to pull him in for a kiss.

Before Cas knew what was happening, Dean had pinned him against the wall, grinding his hips into Cas’. He continued with this motion ... drawn out, delicious, circular gyrations, as his tongue moved wetly against the Cas’ own.

He was driving Cas wild; his moans were long and broken, his breaths coming out in uneven huffs, his legs jelly, and Dean just kept grinning, apparently exhilarated by exercising such power over Cas.

Then, Dean dropped to his knees, unbuckled Cas’ pants, and took Cas cock into his mouth to suck it slow and deep. Cas practically had to bite his knuckle to hold back the moans that came from him. He came much quicker than he expected, panting and looking down at Dean with his pants around his ankles.

Dean got to his feet and planted a chaste kiss on Cas’ lips, and left the room to go wash up without a word. Cas wiped up with his handkerchief, then buried it deep in the Winchesters’ trash can. Dean emerged ten minutes later, donning his dress clothes, ready for Mass, and Cas had only just fully caught his breath.

‘That was ... unexpected,’ said Cas, leaning tiredly against the kitchen counter.

‘I know,’ said Dean with a sheepish grin. ‘I wasn’t planning on that happening, it just ... did.’

‘Are you all right?’ asked Cas.

‘Of course,’ said Dean. ‘I should be asking you.’

‘Yes, I think I’m fine,’ said Cas.

Dean walked over to him slowly, looped his thumbs into the belt loops of Cas’ pants, and pulled him close.

‘You sure?’ he mumbled, kissing him.

‘Yes,’ said Cas, kissing back. ‘I love you.’

Dean grinned. ‘I think we should go,’ he said, ‘you can’t be late.’

‘I’ve done worse,’ said Cas with a wry smile. He swung his jacket over his shoulder and they headed for the front door, only letting go of each other’s hands after they exited.

 

*

 

Dean smiled serenely as Cas’ car bumped down the dusty road towards the highway. He’d been excited all night for this trip. He had two whole hours of uninterrupted alone time with Cas, during which he didn’t have to share him with other people, he didn’t have the pressures of time or a schedule keeping their meeting short, he didn’t have to worry about someone barging in as he kissed his lips or ran a hand over his crotch. They were completely and totally alone, at last, for the first time in ... well, ever.

And now all he could do was sit there and smile.

The thing was, Cas knew all about Dean. About how he practically raised Sam because their father was always so busy with the ranch. He knew about all about his wishes, his fears, and now one last secret that hung over their heads was out, Dean was a complete open book. It was nice, freeing, but it did leave him with very little to say.

Still, the silence wasn’t awkward. Dean didn’t feel the need to start babbling about nothing just to break it. It felt comfortable and familiar, and Dean had a feeling that Cas, who was smiling at the road, felt the same.

They briefly stopped at an old looking building a couple of blocks from the church, and Cas told Dean he had to drop off a letter for one of his parishioners. It looked like a lawyer’s office to Dean. He caught a glimpse of the man inside when Cas exited; he looked strangely familiar.

They pulled up to St. Augustine’s with ten minutes to spare. Dean followed Cas into the back room, located behind the altar, where he pulled the white linen Priest’s Stole over his clothing.

‘Um,’ said Dean, unsure of what to say to a priest before Mass. Break a leg? ‘I’m going to sit down now,’ he said.

He was kind enough to not show Cas any romantic affection inside the walls of his church.

Dean tried his best to focus during Mass, but it was identical to the one he’d attended that morning and Cas looked so God-damn beautiful that he could barely focus on anything else.

Cas had been right about one thing, Mass was a whole different experience in the _real_ building. But it wasn’t the Word of God that transformed into a thing of beauty for Dean, but Cas. He stood at the pulpit, golden sunlight streaming through the stain-glassed windows to bathe his face in a multi-coloured glow, and his hair glowed gold like he was donning a halo.

His voice boomed in a way Dean had never heard it before (Cas never needed to raise it any louder than his regular speaking voice for the small crowd that gathered at the ranch) travelling down the aisle and hitting the walls at the back of the church, to reach everybody’s ears in the crowded building. There was something authoritative and passionate about this heightened volume, Cas usual gravelly tone transformed into something lighter and with more nuance, and it was bizarrely arousing to Dean.

Dean tried to focus on the portrait of Jesus Christ hung over Cas’ head, instead of on his own erotic thoughts. However, this added to his guilt rather than subtracted from it, so he focused instead on his knees, pretending that he was sitting on his bed at home.

The church around him transformed into his bedroom in his mind’s eye, and Cas materialised before him. He straddled Dean’s lap and kissed him deeply; imaginary-Dean and imaginary-Cas were totally naked and writhing together on the bed before real-Dean realised how far his fantasy had gone.

 _Shit_ , he thought, and he forcefully snapped himself back to reality, crossing his legs so as to conceal his erection.

Mass dragged on, and Dean did not dare stand for a second Communion, still suffering under his little _situation_ down stairs when the time came. Thankfully it had gone away by the time the final hymn played, and Dean was one of the first to leave their seat.

Cas stood at the church’s front door, bidding the parishioners farewell as they left, and Dean walked outside to wait by the back door. It was about fifteen minutes later when Cas swung it open to let him in.

‘Sister Anna,’ said Cas, gesturing to the nun beside him, ‘this is Dean Winchester. Dean, this is Sister Anna Milton.’

Sister Anna was slim and pretty, with large hazel eyes and a nice smile. She looked no older than twenty. She appeared tired and harried, and small wisp of red hair was escaping from beneath her habit. Dean was about to point it out, but decided against it.

‘Nice to meet you,’ said Dean with a smile.

‘And you,’ said Sister Anna, ‘I’ve heard a lot about you and your family from Father Castiel.’

‘All good things I hope,’ he said with a grin. He didn’t think Cas had ever mentioned a Sister Anna.

‘Yes of course! I’m sure you haven’t heard of me,’ she added, as if reading his thoughts. ‘I’m new.’

‘She’s doing wonderfully,’ Cas chimed in.

‘Thank you, Father,’ said Anna.

‘I’ll be driving Mr Winchester home,’ he said, ‘will you be okay here alone?’

‘Oh yes, Father Gabriel should be back very soon anyway. Take your time.’

‘Thank you, Sister, good evening.’

‘Evening, Father,’ she replied.

‘She’s nice,’ commented Dean as they walked to the car.

‘Yes, she is very nice,’ replied Cas. ‘How did you find the service?’

‘Really, really good,’ said Dean, and he was glad he lied when it elicited the happy beam from Cas.

‘Well, I’m glad,’ he said.

They got into the car and set out on the road.

‘You sound really good in that church,’ said Dean.

‘ _Sound_ good?’

‘Yeah your voice. When you talked loud, and it was all echoey. Sounds sexy.’

Cas quickly concealed an embarrassed half-smile, but Dean caught it.

‘Are you feeling okay?’ he asked.

‘Of course. Why?’ said Cas, furrowing his brow and glancing over at Dean.

Dean shrugged.

‘Is this still about what I said this morning?’

Dean shrugged again. In all honesty, there was a fear buried inside of him that was trying to claw its way to the surface; he was afraid that Cas would change his mind, push Dean away, decide that he couldn’t be with him, or worse, that he didn’t really love him. Dean pushed the fear down desperately, determined to drink in every moment he spent with Cas and enjoy it, instead of dreading that it might soon be over.

‘I told you,’ said Cas, ‘I was _planning_ to tell you that we couldn’t see each other. I changed my mind. I don’t think I ever really thought I could say it to you, anyway.’

Dean smiled and squeezed Cas’ free hand, which was placed on his lap, and Cas removed it to reach over to grasp Dean’s leg.

‘Everything is going to be fine,’ reassured Cas.

Dean nodded, and took a deep, calming breath. ‘Okay … wait, what are you doing?’ he asked, when Cas slowed the car to a roll and turned into a field.

‘Look at the sunset,’ he said, pointing ahead of them, his right hand back on Dean’s thigh.

Dean looked. The sky was streaked with brilliant shades of gold, purple and grey, and the sun bright orange and low on the horizon.

‘Nice,’ said Dean, nodding appreciatively.

‘God’s creation,’ breathed Cas. ‘Absolutely breathtaking.’

‘Mmm,’ said Dean, and he turned to Cas, who, he thought, looked even more stunning than the sky.

Dean placed a hand on the priest’s cheek and pulled him in for a kiss.

‘I love you,’ he said.

Cas smiled, and his gaze flitted between each of Dean’s eyes.

‘I love you too,’ he said. ‘We better go, or your father will wonder where you’ve been.’

They drove on and too soon, they were back at Campbell Ranch. Dean hopped out of the car to open the main gate, and then they rumbled up towards the Winchester homestead, but when they got near, a loud chopping noise grabbed Dean’s attention, and he gasped at something in the distance.

‘What the–?’

The main homestead, situated higher up on the hill, was surrounded by people – probably fifteen or twenty of them – and a helicopter was descending on the field nearby.

‘Cas, drive up there,’ he said sharply, ‘something’s happened.’

But Cas was already speeding up before Dean spoke, the small car struggling slightly up the steep hill.

Dean almost tripped over when he jumped out of the car. Every single member of the ranch staff seemed to be gathered there, joined by a couple of townspeople he recognised. He quickly found his father in the crowd.

‘What’s happened?’ exclaimed Dean, as Cas came to stand beside him.

John was white as a sheet, and he only looked at Dean with frightened eyes and a slack jaw, not saying a word.

‘It’s not Sam? Dad, answer me!’ cried Dean, his insides thrashing wildly with panic.

A hand was placed on Dean’s shoulder, and he spun around to see Sam standing there, his eyes red and swollen. For a wild moment, Dean was flooded with relief – at least Sam was okay.

‘Oh, thank God,’ he said. ‘What’s happened? _Sammy_ , talk to me!’

‘It’s Grandpa,’ said Sam, his voice shaky, and he roughly brushed away a fresh tear from his eye. ‘He’s been murdered.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my old laptop crapped out, I have a new one now, but I had some hard drive trouble and Word trouble and blech. Anyway I hope the longer length of this chapter makes up for the wait :)
> 
> Wondering when the next update is? [Just check the updates tag.](http://tastycas.tumblr.com/tagged/btltag/)


	6. The Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the day of Samuel's funeral and all Dean wants is for Cas to comfort him.  
> However, Cas has something important to tell him, and Dean isn't going to like it.
> 
> Meanwhile, the police are no closer to identifying Samuel's murderer.

**Chapter Six**

The Funeral

 

 _Have Mercy on me, because I have taken refuge in you._  
 _I take refuge in the shadow of your wings,_  
 _Until destruction passes by._  
            - Psalm 57, [Common English Bible]

 

For three days, Dean did not see Cas. The priest was busy preparing Samuel’s funeral Mass, and Dean was throwing himself into work on the ranch, and looking after Sammy. It was good. Look out for Sammy; make sure Sammy was okay … a lifetime of instruction from his Father drove him.

Dean wasn’t so sure how he felt. In all honesty, yes, he’d grown up on the ranch and saw Samuel almost every day, but he never felt close to him. Their personalities didn’t mesh (Sam disagreed with this point; he always said they were _too_ alike) and they butted heads often. He couldn’t bring himself to care. He knew he should feel bad about not caring, but he didn’t.

Sam had the closer bond with him – filled with respect and some admiration. He was always keen to follow orders when they came from Samuel, rather than John. Dean wondered about how Sam’s work would suffer now, with only John’s instruction.

The police were investigating the death, but so far, they were coming up with nothing. The first person everybody suspected was the new housekeeper, Ruby, but she was cleared because she’d been with Sam the entire day.

Ruby was the only unfamiliar face on the ranch at time of the murder. John, who had been in town when the murder took place, was cleared, as were Dean, Sam and Cas, obviously. Mrs Milligan had been interviewed but was cleared. Dean had no idea what was going on.

Samuel had been found dead and bloody by Mrs Milligan in his library, sprawled out on the white leather couch across from the large mirror by the door, a knife sticking out of his abdomen. Dean hadn’t seen her since it happened, as she refused to leave her house. Dean couldn’t blame her. He’d seen the police carry the couch out right after Samuel went away in the body bag, the white of it tainted by large splotches of red. He couldn’t get the image out of his mind.

So he worked, worked, worked. He worked his fingers to the bone from dawn to dusk (and beyond), only stopping when Sam wanted to talk, or just spend time with Dean. He’d cry, and Dean would soothingly rub his back until he stopped.

Dean just felt miserable. He might not have felt bereaved, but he was haunted by the image of Samuel’s body.

But, beyond all else, it hurt him to see Sam hurt.

Their father seemed largely unaffected by the death. Dean knew he was thinking about the money they were about to inherit, but it was more than that. Even without the promise of however-much-money Samuel had left to them, John would still care little. He’d been indifferent to Samuel – polite, until Mary’s death. Then the apathy turned to bitterness and hate. He would miss nothing of the man now he was gone.

Dean woke up early on Friday, the day of the funeral. For the first time that week, he didn’t jump right out of bed. He lay there for a moment, dreading the day before him.

He knew Cas would be there, and Dean couldn’t really talk to him or touch him, even though what he wanted most in the world at that moment was for Cas to comfort him – not because he needed it, but because he missed him and his attention.

The whole town would probably be there too, looking at him with pitying eyes and speaking words of sympathy that Dean knew he wouldn’t be able to stomach. He groaned, and ran a hand through his hair.

Slowly, he raised himself up to a sitting position and rubbed his eyes until stars appeared before them. He’d only slept in boxers, but he was drenched in sweat. John and Sam were already gone. He quickly bathed and dressed in jeans and a red button-up shirt. He pulled on his boots, the soles still caked in dirt from the day before, and walked out into the glary sunlight.

Six hours until the funeral. Cas would be there in three. He checked his watch and decided to look for Sam.

He found him on the steps of the main homestead, head bowed. Dean walked over and sat beside him.

‘You okay?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. Well – Mr Moore is coming to the funeral, but Jess can’t come. I don’t think he wants her near me. It’s just … I coulda used her today, you know?’

‘Yeah, I know.’ Boy, did he know.

At least Cas would actually be there, even if they couldn’t really speak.

‘It’ll be all right, Sammy. You’re both young, you got your whole lives ahead of you. It’ll work out. You’ll find a way.’

‘Yeah,’ said Sam with a sigh. ‘Yeah, I guess.’

Dean reached out and roughly patted his brother on the shoulder.

‘Can I ask you something, Dean?’

‘Yeah?’

‘How come you never got a girlfriend?’

Dean swallowed. ‘I dunno. I was always more of a loner than you. And I mean, there’s been _girls_ …’

‘Yeah, but nothing serious.’

Dean shrugged. ‘I just wanna give all my love to God.’

Sam snorted. Dean grinned. It was good to see Sam smile.

‘You’re an idiot.’

‘Shut the hell up.’

‘Jerk,’ laughed Sam, and he got to his feet and stretched. ‘I really don’t want everyone here.’

‘Me neither. It’s gonna be bad.’

‘It’ll be okay,’ said Sam with a shrug. ‘They’re coming to pay their respects to Grandpa. We can’t hate them for that.’

‘Grandpa had _a lot_ of friends.’

‘Yeah, he was really loved. Anyway, I was going to go for a walk by the river. Want to come?’

‘Yeah, okay then.’

‘Hey, is that Father Cas?’ said Sam abruptly, squinting into the distance. ‘Yeah, it is. He’s here a bit early, isn’t he?’

Dean stood up and looked ahead, and surely enough, there was Cas’ car driving towards them. He slowed down to a stop, and stepped out to walk to the foot of the stairs, dressed in his vestments.

‘Hello,’ he said, looking sad. ‘How are you doing?’

‘I’m okay,’ said Sam, walking down the stairs to shake Cas’ hand. ‘Doing a little better.’

‘You’d be getting over the initial shock,’ said Cas with a nod. ‘You have my deepest sympathies, Sam. And Dean.’

‘Thanks, Father,’ said Sam.

‘Is your father home?

‘Not yet,’ said Dean. ‘He should be about an hour.’

‘I just wanted to go over the readings with him one last time,’ said Cas. ‘I suppose I can wait.’

‘I can look over them with you,’ said Dean, trying to keep the hopefulness from his voice. ‘If you want. I don’t think Dad cares about the readings, to be honest.’

‘I suppose that’d be fine. Sam, will you join us?’

‘Yeah, yeah of course.’

They walked up the stairs, all together. ‘Did Dad mention Psalm fifty-seven?’ asked Sam, as they entered the house. ‘It was one of Grandpa’s favourites …’

 

‘So we’ll remove these bits,’ said Cas an hour later, as they sat around Samuel’s vast dining room table, ‘because they’re a bit … darker than what I’d usually read at a funeral.’

‘’Cause there’s nothing dark about a funeral,’ said Dean, taking a swig of his cola.

Sam pursed his lips at him, then read. ‘My soul is among lions, I lie among the children of men, that are set on fire; whose teeth are spears and arrows—’

‘Okay, okay,’ said Dean.

‘They have laid a net for my steps,’ Sam continued, ‘my soul is pressed down, they have dug a pit before me and are fallen into the midst of it—’

‘Okay, _okay_ , I get it,’ said Dean, throwing up his hands. ‘Too dark for a funeral. Fine.’

Cas cleared his throat, obviously suppressing a smirk.

‘With the darker lines removed, this will be the reading:  
            _‘Have mercy upon me, O God, have mercy upon me; for my soul trusteth in thee, and in the shadow of thy wings will I trust, till these afflictions overpass._  
            _‘I will call unto the most high God, even the God that performeth his promise toward me._  
 _‘He will send from Heaven, and save me from reproof of him that would swallow me. God will send his mercy, and his truth._  
 _‘Exalt thyself, O God, above the heavens, and let thy glory be upon all the earth._  
 _‘Mine heart is prepared, O God, mine heart is prepared; I will sing and give praise._  
 _‘Awake my tongue, awake viol and harp: I will wake early._  
 _‘I will praise thee, O Lord, among the people, and I will sing unto thee among the nations._  
 _‘For thy mercy is great unto the heavens, and thy truth unto the clouds._  
 _‘Exalt thyself, O God, above the heavens, and let thy glory be upon all the earth.’_

Dean realized he’d been watching Cas read with a smile on his face, hand rested upon his chin. He shook himself from this ridiculous stupor – Sam was _right there_ for God’s sake. He probably looked like Becky Rosen when she would come for dinner and stare at Sam from across the table.

‘That’s beautiful, Father,’ said Sam.

‘Yes, it is, isn’t it?’ said Cas. For a moment, a strange expression flashed across his face; it was something like sadness mixed with annoyance. However, the next moment, his features were smooth, and Dean was sure he must have been imagining it.

‘Grandpa would have loved it,’ said Sam.

‘Yeah, I reckon he would,’ said Dean.

‘Well that’s settled, then,’ said Cas. ‘Your father spoke with Father Gabriel about the music, yes?’

‘Yeah, yesterday,’ replied Sam.

‘Then everything’s ready. Are the two of you okay?’

‘I’m doing all right,’ said Sam, with a sigh.

‘Dean?’

‘I’m good,’ said Dean. Cas’ fond smile went unnoticed by Sam, who was rubbing his eyes.

‘Good. I’ll see the two of you this afternoon.’ And he left.

The day passed without event, Dean cleaned out the chicken coops while Sam kept to his room. The town was gathered in the main homestead by four o’clock for the funeral.

The service was long, but lovely. Dean, Sam and John served as pallbearers, along with Dean and Sam’s Uncle Bobby, who’d driven all night just to be there. He looked very strange, suited up with slicked-back hair, when Dean had never seen him out of plaid and denim and his dirty hat.

Sam read Genesis 18, and Uncle Bobby read Revelations 20 in Dean’s place (Dean _really_ hadn’t wanted to do it); each reading followed by Psalms 8 and 126. Cas then took to the makeshift altar and read Matthew 5: 3-11, finally followed by Psalm 57, as they’d planned that morning, and Dean decided that Cas made it sound just as beautiful the second time, as he watched him from the front pew. For the first time that afternoon, he became teary, and he could have sworn Cas’ eyes were wet as well.

They carted the casket to the ranch’s mausoleum, where they sealed Samuel’s body behind walls of heavy brick, to rest with four generations of Campbell’s, Mary Winchester included. Everybody returned to the main homestead’s living area (where Samuel’s birthday party had been held – it was surreal to Dean just how recently that had been) for the wake.

Dean was accosted left right and centre by well-wishers, some of them weeping, to give him their sympathy. Sam, John and even Cas were going through a similar experience. He didn’t feel up to speaking with Sam or his father. He only wanted to talk to Cas, but he didn’t dare approach him.

Dean gritted his teeth through the ordeal for a full three hours before he had enough. He slipped into the kitchen for some privacy – only there were about six people in there as well. He nodded solemnly through another five minutes of grief, before running up the stairs.

He walked down the hall towards Samuel’s library, where he’d died – he almost jumped out of his skin when he closed the door behind him, and saw someone else’s reflection in the large mirror.

‘ _Cas_ ,’ he said breathily, rubbing his chest. ‘You scared me.’

‘I’m sorry.’ Cas was standing by the desk, leaning against it. He straightened to approach Dean. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah, you startled me is all,’ said Dean with a shrug.

He felt strange. He wanted to be alone with Cas and yet, at the same time, he didn’t. He’d grown used to it already, touching Cas wherever he wanted when they were alone, but today was obviously not the right time. He wanted him to hold him, to comfort him, in ways Dean had never wanted from another person since his mother died. But they could be interrupted. It wasn’t safe. So he had to stay away.

‘I wish I could do something,’ said Cas, raising his hands half-heartedly, then dropping them. Dean thought he must be thinking along the same lines.

‘Yeah. Me too,’ said Dean.

They sighed in unison and sat side-by-side on the bench by the door.

‘He died in here,’ muttered Dean.

‘Yes, I know. I suppose I thought if I came in here I could make sense of it. I’m not sure why.’

‘Are you okay, Cas?’ asked Dean. ‘I mean, he was my grandpa, but you were close to him as well.’

‘I’m not okay,’ said Cas. ‘But I will be.’

‘Good. So will I,’ said Dean. Cas reached out and squeezed Dean’s hand, before hastily placing it back on his own lap.

‘We should probably go back downstairs,’ muttered Cas.

‘I can’t yet,’ said Dean. ‘I can’t stand it. I think I’ll get out of here, take a walk through the top floor.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Cas, ‘another couple of minutes won’t matter.’

They stood together and exited the room and crept past the top of the staircase and down the opposite hall. They ended up in the largest guest room, looking out over the ranch. The sun on the horizon was low, and Dean knew daylight wouldn’t last much longer. That meant the guests would be leaving soon. Dean could already see a couple of people walking to their cars.

‘It’s a lot cheerier in here,’ commented Cas.

‘I s’pose,’ muttered Dean. He didn’t have good associations with the room. When he was a child, and John got furious with him, he’d run away, afraid, and Samuel would let him stay the night in this room. It was the closest thing to familial love that Samuel ever displayed towards him.

‘Will you be here for the reading of the will?’ asked Dean, desperate for a change of subject.

A strange look crossed Cas’ face. ‘Yes.’

‘What is it?’

‘Hmm?’

‘What’s wrong, Cas?’

Cas took a deep breath and faced Dean.

‘Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?’

Dean shrugged. ‘Okay.’

‘This is important Dean,’ said Cas, exasperated. ‘You can’t tell anybody. Not even Sam. Especially not your father.’

‘Cas, you’re worrying me,’ said Dean, frowning. ‘Just tell me.’

Cas took another deep breath. ‘Your grandfather’s lawyer came to me this morning … with a new will.’

‘A new will?’ asked Dean with a frown. ‘What, from Grandpa?’

‘Yes … yes, he has …’ Cas cleared his throat.

‘Cas, just spit it out already, or so help me –‘

‘Samuel has left all of his money – and this ranch – to the Holy Catholic Church or Rome.’

Dean stopped short. His head was reeling. His heart was racing.

‘ _What_?’

‘I didn’t want to tell you,’ said Cas, glancing at him regretfully, ‘I knew you’d be upset.’

‘Of course I’m fucking upset!’

‘Yes, of course, of course,’ said Cas quickly. ‘That’s what I meant. You have every right to be. _I_ am quite angry myself.’

‘Why can’t I tell anyone?’ asked Dean, feeling nauseous. ‘They’re going to find out tonight.’

‘The reading of the will is postponed until Monday.’

There was a silence.

‘You’re going to have to give me more information there, Cas.’

‘You and I – and Samuel’s lawyer – are the only ones who know about the new will. Your father even signed it as a witness without knowing what it contained.’

‘Wait – the lawyer. Did you deliver the will that day when you took me to Mass?’

For a moment, Cas looked as though he wasn’t going to answer. Dean was about to prompt him again, when he nodded.

‘Did you read it, Cas?’ asked Dean. Terrible, unthinkable things were whirling through his brain.

His first thought was, _is Cas capable of murder_? He shook his head at the idea. It was ridiculous.

‘No, of course not. It was private.’

‘It’s just a bit funny,’ said Dean, taking a step away, but watching Cas’ reactions carefully as he spoke. ‘You don’t want anyone to know. Grandpa dies the same day he decides to leave everything to the Church. You’ll get all the credit, Cas. They won’t let you rot out here after bringing in that much money. Will they?’

‘What are you saying?’ asked Cas, squinting at him.

‘I don’t know. What do you think I’m saying?’

There was a loaded silence.

‘Are you implying I had something to do with your Grandfather’s death, Dean?’

Dean bit his tongue. Honestly, he didn’t think that, but it couldn’t hurt to be sure. Surely the police would start thinking along those lines if they learned of the new will? Yes, he and Cas were together when Samuel died, but he could have gotten somebody else to … _No,_ thought Dean, _don’t think that._.

‘Tell me then,’ said Dean, ignoring the priest’s previous question, ‘why don’t you want anyone to know he left you the money?’

‘Because … I haven’t decided what I’m going to do yet.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I haven’t decided … if I am going to take it or not.’

‘Wait, wait, wait,’ said Dean, holding up a hand, ‘you have a _choice_?’

‘Yes, Dean, I have a choice.’

‘Then don’t take it, Cas,’ said Dean, his stomach dropping. ‘What – how – _how could you do that to us_? How could you even consider it?’

‘Look, Dean, I shouldn’t have told you. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t take it Cas. You can’t do this to Sammy.’

‘I don’t wish to talk about this anymore.’

Dean huffed and looked out the window. Cas said something very quietly, and Dean didn’t catch it.’

‘What was that?’

‘Dean, I can’t be with you,’ he repeated.

Dean heard it this time. He was burning. The ground had dropped out from beneath his feet. He was grounded on nothing. His heart was jumping violently in his chest, it was about to crack his ribcage right open, rip itself from his body, fall heavy and bloody on the floor, he was sure of it.

He knew it. He fucking knew it.

His throat closed. He couldn’t breathe. _Breathe damn it. Breathe … no, no, no, this wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening._

His body was heavy. This didn’t hit him like a bolt of lightning, or a ton of bricks, as he would have expected. This was bearing down on him little by little; slow and crushing this weight came down upon him, killing him slowly.

There were tears on his face. Cas was looking at him with sad blue eyes.

‘ _Please, no_.’                     

Wait, did he say that or just think it? He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. No, he did say it; Cas was answering him.

‘I would give anything not to have to do this,’ said Cas quietly. ‘Please forgive me.’

‘This isn’t happening,’ said Dean, raising his hands and placing them on his head.

This couldn’t happen. He’d give anything to change this. He’d sell his soul to turn the clock back just ten minutes, make sure Cas never said this to him. He shouldn’t have pushed him about the will. He never should have come upstairs. This couldn’t happen. He wasn’t going to survive it.

‘I’m sorry, Dean,’ said Cas, his voice quiet and broken. He was gazing at the floor.

‘Why?’ choked out Dean.

‘You know why,’ said Cas sadly, meeting his eyes. ‘You _know_ why.’

Dean swallowed. ‘God.’

‘Yes, God, but there’s so much more. I was a fool, a total fool. So much bad can come from this. You could be killed. We could lose everything. I was delusional Dean. I love you, I do, I love you so much that it sent me mad for a moment, but this – t-this _can’t be_. It just can’t.’ Cas was crying too, now.

‘Is this about the will?’ asked Dean. ‘Are you mad at me?’

‘How could you say that?’ asked Cas, looking devastated.

‘This is so sudden, Cas,’ said Dean. His grief was bubbling low and fierce in his stomach, but now rage was flooding in too, filling him up until he burned from his head to his heart to his fingertips. ‘I must have done something. Something must have happened.’

‘I’ve had time to think, to reflect. That’s all. You know I’m right, Dean, you know it.’

‘Yeah, I know you’re right,’ said Dean, ‘but I guess I thought you loved me enough to understand that I’m an adult and if I wanna risk it, then it’s my choice.’

Dean knew he sounded childish. He didn’t care.

‘It’s my choice too. I can’t do this. There’s too much to lose.’

‘And what if the whole world was fine with – people like us? Would you be with me then?’

Cas only hesitated slightly before saying, ‘Of course,’ but that was enough for Dean.

‘Don’t lie to me, Cas. Not to me.’

‘Dean … the Bible says that homosexuality is wrong. I can’t ignore that. It’s too much.’

‘Yeah, and now we’re getting to the truth, aren’t we?’ said Dean, his voice shaking with fury. ‘This is all about God.’

‘It’s not _all_ about God—’

‘Maybe not. But answer this – did you lie to me, Cas, when I asked you if things would be different if I was a woman?’

Cas looked away and did not answer, and Dean’s heart broke all over again.

‘I fucking knew it,’ he muttered.

‘ _Please_ , Dean,’ said Cas, looking desperate now. ‘Please try to understand! I was in Los Angeles. I was _Cardinal_ material, and I disobeyed, so I ended up here! I’m glad I met you, I really am, but look what my disobedience has cost me! All I did was ignore a bishop’s orders Dean, and the Lord worked through them and made sure I paid for breaking that vow.

‘And all that just for a small act of disobedience! But this – _but this!_ ’ He grasped at his own hair, looking beside himself.‘This is _so_ wrong, even if I wasn’t a priest! We will pay dearly for this Dean, mark my words, and the punishment is going to be severe!’

Dean took a step back, blinking rapidly, jaw clenched, resisting the urge to hit Cas.

‘If God is the kinda thing that would hurt me for just loving someone,’ growled Dean, ‘I don’t want anything to do with Him. Do you hear me? He can do whatever he wants to me, because I’m _done_ with Him.’

‘You don’t mean that,’ said Cas, looking afraid.

‘Oh, I mean it. If it weren’t for him, I could have you. I’ve already paid for loving you, Cas. I’m fucking paying right now. I love you and you’re leaving me.’

‘Dean, I don’t know what to say. I have dreams, dreams that are not sinful. It is the best thing for us. I promise you’ll see in the long run.’

‘Dreams? Oh, right – _Cardinal material._ And did you consider that this is more about your ambition than your love of God?’

‘Dean –’                                                                                           

‘This is about the money. I know it is. Just be honest with me. Please, just tell me the truth.’

‘Fine, but please, just listen to what I have to say. Though I am considering taking the money, it has no weight in my decision to stop … this.’ He indicated between himself and Dean. ‘And this isn’t about selfish financial gain. Most of it would go to the Church, not to me. Samuel has made it so you, Sam and John can stay here, and you will be managers. You’ll barely notice the Church’s involvement. You’ll still be wealthy, very wealthy. But this is my chance Dean – forget being a bishop in America, this is a ticket straight to _Rome_. Think how much better I can serve God while in Rome!’

‘Yeah right. You’ll be sucking some good-looking Italian’s dick in no time,’ spat Dean.

 Cas winced. ‘Please, Dean. I wish you’d try and understand.’

‘Oh, I understand. You don’t love me, not really,’ said Dean, pacing the room. ‘You never did. I was only good enough for you so long as you _had_ to stay in Kansas.’

‘I do love you, Dean.’

‘Well, maybe you do.’ Dean turned and looked at him. ‘But God first. You love God first. And yourself most of all.’

Cas blinked and looked down, looking shamed, without making a reply.

‘Get away from me,’ said Dean.

‘Dean—’

‘Just go,’ barked Dean. ‘Just get out of my sight.’

Dean turned away and lent against the window sill as Cas stormed from the room, slamming the door behind him. After a few moments, he heard the door reopen.

‘By the way,’ came Cas’ voice. ‘I could never be with anyone else after you. You must know that.’

The door closed again. Dean sunk to his knees and wept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to my beta [Cameron](http://thelittlenightowl.tumblr.com/) for cleaning up the messes in this one.
> 
> I bawled my eyes out at the last part, which made it hard to write actual words that go together.
> 
> Wondering when the next update is? [Just check the updates tag.](http://tastycas.tumblr.com/tagged/btltag/)


	7. Song of Solomon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel is at St Augustine's when he is confronted by John Winchester. Cas i faced with a tough choice.
> 
> Dean is home grieving over Cas. When Sister Anna visits him and tells him that Father Cas has gone missing, Dean takes it upon himself to find him - and things take an unexpected turn.
> 
>  
> 
> _'I will look for the one I love. I looked for him but did not find him ... When I found the one I love. I held on to him and would not let him go.'_

**Chapter Seven**

Song of Solomon

 

 _I looked for the one I love. I looked for him but did not find him._  
 _I will get up now and roam around the city, in the streets, and in the squares._  
 _I will look for the one I love. I looked for him but did not find him._  
 _The watchmen making their rounds in the city found me. I asked, “Have you seen the one I love?”_  
 _I had just left them, when I found the one I love. I held on to him and would not let him go._  
                        - Song of Solomon 3, [God’s Word Translation]

 

_The day before the funeral_

Cas sat at the table in the garden behind St. Augustine’s Catholic Church, his rosary beads in hand. He had stopped praying minutes earlier, but hadn’t realised it; he was still running a thumb over each bead as if he were still going.

He was thinking of Dean. He hadn’t been back to the ranch since the day of Samuel’s death; he’d been too busy at the church with preparations for the funeral. He hoped Dean was coping.

Cas longed to be with him. He regretted that the expressions of their love, so far, had been purely physical. He supposed after waiting for so long, any moments alone were bound to lead to the carnal side of things.

Still, Cas longed to be with Dean in a way that every man might be with the person he loved. He wanted to share his bed, take him on vacation, kiss him after dinner and read together in comfortable silence. He wanted things that could not be for a man in love with a man – and especially not for a priest.

He knew he could not leave the priesthood. He never really intended to. Still, he imagined what it might be like – leaving the church, leaving town, going to a faraway place where nobody knew them. They could find a place where they could be together.

Cas knew a little about the underground places where homosexual men spent their time. He’d heard of them a couple of times over the years, from parishioners who confessed to him their homosexual activities. Cas wondered if Dean knew places such as these existed. There were other men just like he and Dean out there in the world –  men they would never meet if they spent their days in this isolated town.

And that’s when he began to imagine what could go wrong between them. Dean would want more, eventually. Of course he would, and he deserved it. But then what? He imagined Dean discovering these homosexual 'venues' by himself, perhaps finding another man who could give him everything he needed. Cas closed his eyes against that painful thought.

That’s when he realised he was no longer praying. He placed the rosary beads on the table before him and sighed.

John Winchester would be there soon. He was coming to discuss the readings for the funeral. He’d insisted to come to St. Augustine’s, instead of Cas visiting him at the ranch. Cas found this unusual, but he guessed that John was trying to keep Sam as far removed from the proceedings as he could. Sam had been so close with his grandfather, and Cas could only imagine the depth of his mourning.

Cas looked at his watch. John would be there very soon. He got to his feet, intending to seek out Father Gabriel, with whom John would have to consult about the music. However, it was then that he saw Father Gabriel approaching him from across the garden.

‘Gabriel,’ said Cas. ‘I was about to come and find you.’

‘Ah, yes?’

‘Yes, John Winchester will be here soon.’

‘Oh, yeah, I have the hymns in the back room,’ said Gabriel. ‘I’ll go get them. Anything else you need?’

‘No, that should be it, Gabriel. Thank you.’

‘Father?’ came a woman’s voice. It was Sister Anna, peeking out from the back door. ‘Mr Winchester is here to speak with you.’

‘Speak of the …’ Gabriel’s eyes flashed cheekily. He’d heard all about John’s hot-headedness from Cas. ‘Anyway, I’ll go get the music sheets.’

‘Thank you,’ said Cas, suppressing a smile.

‘No need, I’ll meet you in the office.’ It was John Winchester, pushing past Sister Anna and entering the courtyard. ‘Can I have a moment alone with Father Castiel?’

‘Of course,’ said Anna, and she retreated back into the church. Gabriel raised his eyebrows at Cas, patted him on the shoulder, and followed her.

‘Hello, John,’ said Cas, once Gabriel and Anna were gone. ‘How are you?’

‘I’ve been better,’ said John, his jaw twitching. He walked over to the table where Cas had been sitting earlier, plonked a briefcase down upon it and sat down without invitation.

Cas took the seat across from him. ‘Wouldn’t this be easier in my office? That’s where my Bible and papers are.’

‘No,’ said John, clicking open his briefcase. ‘I think this will work better where we won’t be overheard.’

Cas frowned at John, and his stomach suddenly felt as though it was filled with writhing snakes. ‘I assume this isn’t about the funeral, then.’

‘No. Not at all.’

John dropped a yellow folder down on the table; he slid the briefcase off the table and placed it by his feet.

‘What’s this?’

‘You tell me.’

Cas glanced cautiously at John, but he only stared back, his expression hard. Cas took the silence as meaning that John wanted him to open the folder.

He did, and he was astounded that he managed to keep himself from falling out of his chair.

The folder contained several grainy photographs; every photo was of him and Dean. They seemed to have been taken from outside the living room window of the Winchester homestead, through a small crack in the curtain.

Some of them were graphic depictions of Dean giving Cas oral sex. There were a couple more of them kissing afterwards, and one of them holding hands when they were about to exit the house.

‘John,’ said Cas, his voice high-pitched and very unlike his own, ‘I can—’

‘Explain?’ said John, taking the photos back from him, a strange amusement playing across his features. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Please,’ said Cas, because he didn’t know what else to say.

‘Please, what?’

No words came to him. He simply shook his head, eyes wide.

‘You’re takin’ advantage of my son,’ he said. ‘I tried to tell Samuel. I tried to tell him. But he didn’t care. He didn’t listen – but I got these now!’ He slammed his hand down upon the yellow folder. ‘Too late to show him though, isn’t it? He got himself killed, and he has left all our money to _you_.’

‘W-what? What do you mean?’

‘He changed the will. What, he gave it to you to deliver and you didn’t even bother reading it?’

‘Of course not! Why would I?’

‘Well, if you did you woulda seen it. He left every cent to the Church. Proud, are you Father? Or maybe it was weird with Samuel, too, hey? What disgusting things did you do for that money?’

Cas winced, but he kept his eyes firmly upon John.

‘You need to try and understand. I never meant to … I am not depraved. At least, I don’t feel like I am. This isn’t about sex, John. I am in love with your son.’

John did not answer, but Cas felt like he only now truly understood the expression ‘ _If looks could kill.’_

‘Please, John. What do you want from me?’

‘What makes you think I want something from you?’

‘These photographs could ruin my life. I assume you haven’t shown them to anyone else?’

John was silent for a moment, looking thoughtful.

‘And to show them to anyone would incriminate Dean, as well,’ he continued.

‘Well, you’re right. I do want something, _Father_. Two things. One, you burn that will. Let us have what’s rightfully ours.’

‘Yes, of course,’ said Cas quickly. ‘I never would have—’

‘And two,’ John said, interrupting him, ‘you leave Dean alone. You never come back to our ranch. You tell Dean it’s over and don’t tell him why. If I ever set eyes on you again, I’ll kill you. But if you play by the rules, no one has to know. I won’t tell Dean I know. He still has a chance to be normal.’

Cas got to his feet and turned his back on John, taking a few steps towards the garden. He felt light-headed, and he placed a hand on the fence for support.

If he ever went near Dean again, both their lives would be ruined. He never would have taken the money, even without being blackmailed. What on earth had possessed Samuel to do this? Did his hate for John really run so deep that he would deprive his grandsons of their rightful inheritance? Rejecting the money came easy.

But John was asking him to keep away from Dean forever. A small part of Cas understood the request, knowing he might do the same if he had a son in the same position.

On the other hand, desperation and terror bubbled up inside him. He couldn’t hurt Dean. How could he look him in the eye and tell him they could never see each other again, and not even tell him the real reason why? How could he live without him?

‘I … I don’t have any other choice, do I?’ he said in a strangled voice, his back still to John. ‘I have to do what you say.’

‘Damn right,’ said John gruffly.

Cas turned to face him. He looked as though he was enjoying this. How could this spiteful man have produced such wonderful children? He was rubbing his hand over the yellow folder, a gleeful look in his eyes.

 ‘Who took those photographs?’ asked Cas, suddenly curious. ‘How long have you known?’

‘That’s not for you to worry about,’ said John. ‘So do we have a deal?’

Cas sighed, and took a few steps towards him.

‘Of course. I’ll keep my distance and then tell him after the pain of losing Samuel isn’t so fresh.’

‘You’ll tell him the next time you see him,’ demanded John.

‘What?’ said Cas incredulously. ‘That’s the funeral, John. You want me to tell him on the day of his grandfather’s funeral? Are you insane?’

‘Hey, it’s the queers that get carted off to the asylums, so don’t you call me insane, you filthy hypocrite.’

Cas blinked rapidly, biting his tongue on the very un-Christian things he wanted to say to John.

John picked up his brief case and placed the yellow folder back inside. He picked the case up, and his eyes rested on Cas’ Rosary Beads, which had previously gone unnoticed.

‘These won’t help you now,’ he said, picking them up with a smirk. ‘You better spend the rest of your life asking God to forgive you for this one.’

‘Perhaps you should do the same,’ retorted Cas, unable to help himself.

A look of fury passed over John’s face. ‘Just do what I say, or you’ll be sorry, priest. He threw the beads down onto the grass, and stormed off without another word.

Cas walked by them, not bothering to pick them up, and sat down at the table once again.

What kind of world was this, where the blackmailing, alcoholic, negligent father was in the right, and Cas was in the wrong, simply for being in love with Dean Winchester?

 

Twenty-four hours passed, and Cas was gasping for air in his car. He’d driven from the ranch, but didn’t even make it half a mile out of the front gates before the grief had taken him over so severely that he nearly veered off the road and into the tall grass. He drove all the way down the slope and into the field before he even found the brake.

Cas took a deep breath and placed his head in his hands, sobbing in a way that he hadn’t since he was a small child.

He’d said horrible things. He told Dean he was considering taking the money left to him by Samuel. He thought that maybe if Dean was angry with him, he’d take the breakup better. However, panic set in when he saw how much he was hurting Dean and he began to backpedal.

If he wasn’t suffering so much in his grief, he might have laughed. He reasoned with Dean over a decision he hadn’t even made. He’d been so desperate not to hurt him that he lost his head and hurt him even more than he should have. He’d made a terrible mess of everything.

Samuel’s lawyer had come to him that morning at the rectory with the will, not knowing that Cas already knew of its contents. Cas took it from him and burned it in the fireplace.

He would never see the ranch again. He doubted he’d never see Dean again. Life was long, yes, but Cas knew in his heart that Dean would spend the rest of his life on the ranch, and maybe he was better off without Cas anyway. After all, what could Cas offer him?

A strange idea occurred to Cas – if he drove around until he found a cliff, he could jump right off it and not have to hurt anymore.

The second this thought crossed his mind, he threw himself out of the car, horrified, and kneeled down in the grass beside the road.

‘Please, Lord,’ he begged. ‘Please help me! I’ve sinned against you, in so many ways. I fear your punishment. Help me!’

He bowed his head, but no answer came. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting.

‘Lord, please, I need ... I need you to help me be … be sure that I love you more than him.’

Again, no answer. Of course.

Cas wiped the tears from his face and stood to face the heavens.

‘I have given my life to you. I know you are testing me, as you test us all. I know that somewhere in this mess, your Divine Will is at work. But please, Lord – I can’t do this. Please, take this suffering from me. Take this sinful love out of me. Please.’

Cas was sure that every Christian, or indeed every person who believed in anything, at some point fantasised their God reaching down to Earth to raise them up. The god would tell them the secrets of life, tell them that everything would be okay. Of course, this never happened; but one could dream.

Cas lowered himself onto to his knees once again. He sat there until night fell, knowing that he was neglecting that night’s obligations, knowing that Father Gabriel and Sister Anna would wonder where he was, and worry for him.

He didn’t care. All he could focus upon were the dark waves of anguish crashing against his heart. The grief spilled over and filled him up completely, cracking his ribs and drowning his soul. He couldn’t move; he could only sit there and feel it.

 

The sunlight burned Dean’s eyes as he sat at the kitchen table. He was slowly and miserably chewing on a burnt piece of toast when a knock came on the door.

Dean considered ignoring it. He really didn’t want to see anybody right now. His father had left the ranch early to run some errands, giving Dean the opportunity to hide in the house all morning.

The knocking came again, louder this time. He sighed and got to his feet to answer it; he took an actual step backwards in shock when he saw who was on the other side.

‘Sister Anna?’ he said, looking behind her to see if Cas was with her. He wasn’t. ‘Um, is everything okay?’

‘Not really,’ replied the nun. Her eyes were wide and her face white as a sheet. ‘May I come in?’

‘Of course,’ said Dean, ushering her inside. ‘Take a seat.’

Anna sat at the table, and she spoke with no more delay.

‘Have you seen Father Cas?’ she asked.

‘Um … not since yesterday,’ said Dean. Sudden fear struck his heart when he realised what her words might mean. ‘Why, is everything okay?’

‘No, not really,’ she said shakily. ‘Father Cas is  … he didn’t come back to the rectory last night.’

‘He didn’t?’ asked Dean, sitting down across from her at the table. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure. Father Gabriel checked his room and all his belongings are still in his room. If he left … surely he would have taken them? And Father Cas would never leave. Not on purpose.’

Dean frowned. He wasn’t so sure about that. If Cas’ iciness the day before was only a façade, perhaps he was much more distressed than he let on.

‘I think he was pretty upset yesterday – about my grandfather,’ he added quickly. ‘Really upset.’

‘Did he tell you this?’ she asked, looking to be on the verge of tears. ‘What did he say?’

‘He didn’t tell me. It’s just, he didn’t look too … well, I just assumed. He wasn’t – himself.’

‘That’s what worries me,’ said Sister Anna. ‘I noticed the same thing.’

‘You did?’ asked Dean, his curiosity peaked. ‘Why?’

‘He was acting very strangely before he left for the funeral,’ she said. ‘He went out to the garden that morning to pray, and he seemed fine. When he came back inside, he looked like he’d been sentenced to death.’

Dean frowned. Could that possibly have been when Cas made the decision to stop seeing Dean?

‘How long was he in the garden?’ asked Dean.

‘About half an hour, no time at all. Most of it was spent with your father.’

Dean’s gaze snapped up. ‘My father? Really?’

‘Yes. Didn’t you know he came to see us?’

‘No, I didn’t,’ said Dean thoughtfully. ‘What was he there for?’

‘To go over the plans for the funeral.’

Dean looked away from Anna, the cogs in his brain turning rapidly. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen his father at all on the morning at question. And when they spoke the night before, he’d mentioned to Dean and Sam that he’d been working on the ranch all morning ‘clearing his head’. Why would he lie?

‘Dean,’ said Anna quietly, breaking him from his reverie. ‘Do you have any idea where Father Cas might have gone?’

‘I don’t.’ Dean swallowed. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘Then I’m afraid I’ll have to contact the police.’

‘I guess so. God, they’re going to be busy with this family, aren’t they?’ Dean looked at Anna, and saw that she was smiling sadly. ‘What?’

‘Just what you said. _This family_. You care deeply for Father Cas, don’t you?’

‘O-of course,’ said Dean, trying desperately to rearrange his features into a casual yet concerned expression. ‘His father was practically my grandfather’s brother, so he’s been in this family longer than I have, really … God, I hope he’s okay.’

‘Me too,’ said Anna, reaching out and touching his shoulder across the table, as she got to her feet. ‘I must go. Thank you for your help, Dean.’

‘No problem, I just wish I knew something helpful.’

Dean closed the door on Sister Anna and waited for her footsteps to be out of earshot before he let himself fall apart.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck,’ he muttered, bursting into his bedroom. He searched frantically for his boots; he found one under his bed and the other behind his door. He pulled on his jacket and burst from through the back door without a hat. He promptly fell over a wooden crate by the back window, sliding along the porch and colliding with the wooden fence.

‘Ahh, fuck,’ he groaned, rubbing his head as he jumped back to his feet. He gave the crate a swift kick, then got into his car; he drove out of the ranch and sped down the long dirt road, dust clouds raising up behind him.

He hadn’t said anything at the time, but when Cas drove him to and from mass, he’d taken the long way. Dean smiled that night at the thought; he couldn’t think of any reason for this, besides Cas wanting to spend longer with him. He banished that thought from his mind now; it was funny how a once fond memory could become so painful.

He wasn’t sure why he would find Cas there – he just had a feeling. Dean took the long back road, driving slowly as he looked around. He didn’t see Cas. He didn’t see anybody.

He was almost into town when something made him screech to a stop.

‘No way! No, no,’ he breathed. He tumbled from the car and ran down the grassy slope.

There was Cas’ car, parked and seemingly abandoned. He came to a halt before it, his hand resting on its warm roof. The doors were locked but the window was open, and Dean reached in to open it from the inside.

He sat in the passenger seat and looked around for anything suspicious. There didn’t seem to be anything personal in the car at all. He reached under the passenger seat and his finger came into contact with something smooth.

He reached for the object and pulled it out from its hiding spot. It was a black, leather-bound Bible. It looked old; the golden lettering on the front was chipped away, so severely that the title now read _Hly Bie_ instead of _Holy Bible._

Dean ran his fingers fondly over the cover – not because he was particularly attached to the Word of God, but because it belonged to Cas. This is where he came when he was joyful, sad or angry. This was the book where Cas found solace, when it could be found nowhere else.

Dean opened the book, and found that two pages were bookmarked by an empty envelope torn in two. The first page marked was _Song of Solomon_. Dean read the passage circled in black ink.

_Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth._   
_Your expressions of love are better than wine,_   
_better than the fragrance of cologne._   
_(Cologne should be named after you.)_   
_No wonder the young women love you!_   
_Take me with you. Let’s run away._   
_The king has brought me into his private rooms._

Dean smiled. He remembered Song of Solomon from his youth. He used to be ashamed of the ways in which he enjoyed it back then. At that point, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever set his eyes on. He wondered what Cas was thinking about when he marked it; he knew it must have been him, though perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

The next verse marked, however, wiped the smile right off Dean’s face. The verse was in Romans, and Dean knew which verse was of interest to Cas before he even read it. The circle around his particular passage was much more aggressively drawn.

_For this reason God allowed their shameful passions to control them. Their women have exchanged natural sexual relations for unnatural ones. Likewise, their men have given up natural sexual relations with women and burn with lust for each other. Men commit indecent acts with men, so they experience among themselves the punishment they deserve for their perversion._

Dean swallowed hard, a heavy feeling in his chest. He knew all too well how Cas must have felt. He’d read that verse many times himself, for the sole purpose of beating himself up and making himself feel guilty. He’d left that behind now but, obviously, it wouldn’t be so easy for Cas. Honestly – and Dean’s insides hurt at the thought – Cas would probably never leave those worries behind, and Cas knew it. That was why he left Dean.

Dean slowly got out of Cas’ car, the bible still in his hand, and got back into his own. He rested his hands on the steering wheel, and lay his head upon them for a long time. His face was wet with tears when he finally turned on the ignition.

He drove down the road and saw a couple sitting on the porch of their old farmhouse. Dean pulled over, figuring it was worth a try. He checked his side mirror to make sure it wasn’t obvious that he’d been crying, then got out of the car to approach them.

The couple were probably in their late sixties. The woman had wispy white hair and wore a blue dress; the man was bald with a thick moustache, a pair of suspenders stretching tightly over his yellow shirt and round belly.

‘Hi,’ said Dean, as he walked up their path, ‘I’m Dean. Sorry too bother you, but I’m looking for my friend. He went missing last night. He’s about this tall,’ Dean indicated somewhere around his eyes, ‘dark hair, bright blue eyes. He probably came by here between eight and midnight.’

‘Nope, we haven’t seen anyone,’ said the man. ‘We’re in bed by six most nights.’

‘Oh right. Well, thanks – sorry to bother you.’

‘Wait!’ A woman’s voice came from behind the screen door. A young lady stepped out onto the porch. Her skin was tan, her hair dark, her eyes dark brown. She smiled down at Dean. He noticed she was very pretty. ‘I saw him.’

‘You did?’ said Dean, almost jumping in shock. It had been such a long-shot, stopping there. ‘Was he okay?’

‘He came by here after my parents went to bed. He seemed upset,’ she said with a frown. ‘He was dressed like a priest, so I asked and he told me he was one. I asked him _where’s your collar?_ Because he was missing it, you see. He said he didn’t know where it went.’

‘You really shouldn’t be speaking with strange men, dear,’ said the woman.

‘Mom,’ said the woman with an eye-roll. ‘He was a priest.’

‘Do you know where he went?’ asked Dean.

‘I certainly do. I pointed him that way myself. He asked me where the nearest motel was, and I told him the Golden Wing is only a mile down that way,’ – she pointed north – ‘on this very same road. He thanked me and left.’

‘Did he say anything else?’

The woman squinted, looking thoughtful. ‘I don’t think so. I asked him if he wanted to come in for something to eat – he looked exhausted. He said no.’

‘Thank you,’ said Dean, rushing up the step to shake her hand. ‘Thank you so much.’

‘No problem. I’m Lisa Braedon by the way.’

‘Dean Winchester,’ he said. ‘I better go. Thanks again.’

He waved goodbye to the three of them as he sped back down the road.

The Golden Wing Motel was on a corner not too far from the church. Its appearance did not live up to the nice-sounding name. The building was falling apart and the clerk manning the front desk was as dirty as the wall behind him and the carpet beneath their feet. His face gleamed with sweat, though it wasn’t hot.

‘Hi,’ said Dean, approaching the desk. ‘I’m looking for a friend of mine who checked in here last night.’

‘Name?’ grunted the man.

‘Castiel Novak.’

‘The Catholic priest?’ asked the man with a scowl.

‘Um … yes.’

‘Room eight,’ said the man abruptly.

‘Thank you,’ said Dean cautiously. The man looked at him like he was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Protestant, probably.

Dean slowly approached room number eight. He looked around the car park, making sure no one was there. He wasn’t sure what he was afraid of. Being caught? This was completely innocent. Still, his heart hammered in his chest as he knocked on the door.

He heard slow footsteps from the other side, and the door opened just a crack. Blue eyes peered at him through the gap.

‘Dean,’ came a breathy voice.

Dean smiled sadly. ‘Hey, Cas.’

‘How did you find me?’

‘You know what, I’m not even sure. A lot of luck.’

Cas’ eyes were darting left and right.

‘There’s no one here,’ said Dean. ‘Can you let me in?’

Cas seemed to contemplate Dean for a moment – then Dean’s heart dropped when he closed the door in his face. He was about to turn away, when a clicking sound stopped him. The door reopened.

‘I thought you wanted me to go,’ said Dean, relieved.

‘I was taking the chain lock off the door.’

‘I know.’

‘Come in. Hurry, please.’

Dean rushed inside, and Cas closed the door behind them. Dean sat on the bed while Cas peered out through the curtain.

‘There’s no one here,’ said Dean, ‘like I said. Just me. I came alone.’

‘Nobody followed you?’ asked Cas.

‘Followed me? What are you …?’

Dean now fully noticed Cas’ appearance. He looked terrible – his hair was a mess, his eyes were swollen and his was face scratched up. His black pants were covered in dirt, and the undershirt he wore was torn around the hem.

‘What happened to you?’ asked Dean.

‘I believe I’ve had some sort of nervous breakdown,’ said Cas matter-of-factly, turning into the small kitchenette in the corner. ‘Would you like a glass of water?’

‘No, thanks,’ said Dean with a frown. ‘A nervous breakdown? What do you mean?’

‘I was scared for myself. I threw my belt in the bin.’

‘Um … your belt?’

‘I was afraid I might hang myself with it.’

‘Jesus, Cas.’

‘Please don’t take –’

‘ _The Lord’s name in vain_ – yeah, yeah, I’m sorry. But you wanted to _kill_ yourself? What’s going on, Cas?’

Cas simply shrugged.

‘Hey,’ said Dean, closing the distance between them and placing a hand on Cas’ shoulder, ‘talk to me. Do you want to hurt yourself now?’

‘No,’ said Cas, glancing sadly up at Dean. ‘Not anymore. It was a sort of … an intense, but fleeting experience.’

‘But why?’

‘I believe …’ Cas sighed. ‘I believe the pain of losing you made me lose my mind for a moment.’

‘Losing me?’ asked Dean, stepping back with an incredulous laugh. ‘Cas _you_ left _me._ ’

‘Yes, Dean. I know.’

‘Then what’s the deal?’

‘I’m afraid it’s rather complicated.’        

‘I’ve got all day,’ replied Dean.

‘Do you?’ asked Cas, squinting at him. ‘Where does your father think you are?’

‘He wasn’t there when I left. Sister Anna and Father Gabriel are looking for you, Cas. Sister Anna came by and saw me this morning, asking me if I knew where you might be. I left right away to find you.’

‘How _did_ you find me?’ asked Cas. ‘I know you say luck, but what do you mean?’

‘I went back to the road we drove down when you took me to Mass,’ said Dean. ‘You pulled over there and had your little religious experience with the sunset. I thought you might go back there … that maybe it was a fond memory?’

Cas half-smiled; this made Dean grin. ‘You know me very well, Dean.’

‘Of course,’ said Dean. He hesitantly touched Cas’ back; when Cas did not object, he began rubbing up and down. ‘Come, sit.’

Cas obliged. They sat on the bed together, side-by-side.

‘Cas, I’m really confused. I know there’s more to this than you’re saying. Please, just tell me what’s going on.’

‘I can’t, Dean,’ said Cas. He scrunched up his face, and put his face in his hands, as if he’d suddenly been inflicted with a bad migraine. ‘I just can’t.’

‘So there _is_ something you’re not telling me. Cas, whatever it is, we can work it out.’

Cas just shook his head.

‘Come on. I love you.’

Cas looked up at these words. Dean knew why; he’d been pretty restrictive when it came to declarations of love. It wasn’t just with Cas, it was with everyone he cared about. He guessed it was just the way he was raised. _Men_ just weren’t supposed to say that kind of thing.

But Dean had gotten older, and now realised that his father was not the best example of manhood. Sure, he swore, worked, drank and hunted. But he was absent and cold. Dean spent so long desperately wanting to be just like him. Looking back – he thought he must have been out of his mind.

He didn’t want that anymore. And he’d be damned if he’d let his father ruin his relationship with Cas.

‘Hang on …’ said Dean. With this thought, something clicked into place. ‘Sister Anna said that Dad met with you the morning of the funeral.’

He looked at Cas, and saw that the priest’s eyes were wet and afraid.

‘Is this something to do with him?’ asked Dean, rage swelling up inside him.

Cas exhaled shakily. ‘Well …’

‘It is, isn’t it? What happened? What did he say?’

‘He … Dean … He – he knows.’

 ‘How?’ Dean choked out. The ground seemed to have fallen away from beneath them, and Dean was shaking.

‘He had pictures,’ replied Cas. ‘He showed them to me.’

‘Pictures? Of us?’

‘Yes. We were in your house … that day I took you to Mass.’

‘Oh,’ said Dean, the memory playing before his mind’s eye like a moving picture. ‘ _Oh_.’

‘Yes.’

‘But … did he take them? I don’t think we even have a camera.’

‘I’m not sure who took them. They were shot through a crack in the curtain of your back window.’

‘Shit.’ Dean’s heart was hammering in his chest; he was having trouble swallowing. ‘This is bad, Cas, really bad.’

Cas placed a gentle hand on Dean’s face. He ran the pad of his thumb and down his jaw, and Dean suddenly felt much calmer.

‘Do you understand, Dean?’ asked Cas, his voice rough. ‘If I don’t stay away from you, he would reveal our secret to everybody.’

‘Is that why you took the money?’ asked Dean quietly. ‘You were pissed at my dad?’

‘No,’ whispered Cas. ‘I was never going to take the money. I just thought … if you were angry with me …’

‘I’d take the breakup better,’ said Dean, closing his eyes. His life was ruined, yet despite that, relief rushed through him.

‘So, you understand.’

‘Yeah, I get it. Hell, I probably would’ve done something like that myself.’ He took the priest’s hand. ‘Cas, what are we going to do?’

‘I think … I’m going to ask permission to take some time off for my health … and then, when I return, I will ask to be transferred somewhere else.’

‘Cas, _no_. Why?’ exclaimed Dean.

‘I don’t think I have any other choice. I can’t be so close to you, and yet, be unable to be with you. It’ll drive me crazy. I know myself, Dean. I don’t think when it comes to you. I will give in and come to you again – and I will ruin our lives.’

Dean got to his feet and began pacing. He knew Cas was watching him, but he could not meet his eye. He couldn’t let this happen. There must be something they could do.

Then, of all places, he realised the answer was right there in the Bible. He threw himself back onto the bed next to Cas, and took him enthusiastically by the shoulders.

‘I know what we can do!’ He was laughing, yet on the verge of tears.

‘What?’ asked Cas, looking alarmed.

‘I found your Bible,’ he said. ‘It’s in the car. And you circled this one passage, so I reckon you’ve thought of this too.’

‘Was it … Song of Solomon?’ asked Cas, a look of comprehension dawning on his face.

‘Yes,’ said Dean with a large grin, tightening his grip on Cas’ shoulders. ‘It says, _take me with you – let’s run away_.’

‘Dean …’

‘Let’s do it Cas,’ said Dean intensely. ‘Let’s run away together.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't 'hate' John Winchester, this is simply his purpose in this story - no other character but Dean's father would fit.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this. This is my favourite chapter so far, I think! Chapter eight should be up very soon.
> 
> Wondering when the next update is? [Just check the updates tag.](http://tastycas.tumblr.com/tagged/btltag/)

**Author's Note:**

> What started as a simple Cowboy!Dean and Priest!Cas smut fic, has turned into a way bigger idea than I bargained for.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, don't forget to leave kudos or comment!
> 
> Wondering when the next update is? [Just check the updates tag.](http://tastycas.tumblr.com/tagged/btltag/)


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